NAUTILUS

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS AUTHOROF "CAPTAIN JANUARY,""MELODY," "MARIE," "QUEENHILDEGARDE," ETC., ETC.

Illustrated

TENTH THOUSAND

BOSTON ESTES AND LAURIAT1895

Copyright, 1895, BY ESTES ANDLAURIAT All rights reserved Entered atStationers' Hall, London.

Typography and Printing by C.H. Simonds& Co. Electrotyping by Geo. C. Scott &Sons Boston, U.S.A.

TO MY DEAR FRIENDS, THEMEMBERS OF THE HOWE CLUB,OF GARDINER, MAINE, THISSTORY IS AFFECTIONATELYDEDICATED.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER Page

I. THE BOY JOHN 13

II. THE SKIPPER 18

III. A GREAT EXHIBITION 33

IV. ABOARD THE "NAUTILUS" 48

V. MYSTERY 56

VI. MR. BILL HEN 68

VII. THE CAPTIVE 75

VIII. IN THE NIGHT 86

IX. FAMILY MATTERS 93

X. IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION105

XI. SAILING 113

NAUTILUS

CHAPTER I.

THE BOY JOHN.

The boy John was sitting on the wharf,watching the ebb of the tide. Thecurrent was swift, for there had beenheavy rains within a few days; the riverwas full of drifting logs, bits of bark,

odds and ends of various kinds; thewater, usually so blue, looked brownand thick. It swirled round the greatmossy piers, making eddies betweenthem; from time to time the boydropped bits of paper into theseeddies, and saw with delight how theyspun round and round, like livingthings, and finally gave up the struggleand were borne away down stream.

"Only, in the real maelstrom," he said,"they don't be carried away; they goover the edge, down into the blackhole, whole ships and ships, and younever see them again. I wonder wherethey stop, or whether it goes through tothe other side of the world."

A great log came drifting along, andstruck against a pier; the end swunground, and it rested for a few moments,beating against the wooden wall. This,it was evident, was a wrecked vessel,and it behooved the boy John, as a heroand a life-saver, to rescue herpassengers. Seizing a pole, he lay downon his stomach and carefully drew thelog toward him, murmuring words ofcheer the while.

"They are almost starved to death!" hesaid, pitifully. "The captain is tied to themast, and they have not had anything toeat but boots and a puppy for threeweeks. The mate and some of the

sailors took all the boats and ran away,at least, not ran, but went off and leftthe rest of 'em; and they have all saidtheir prayers, for they are very goodfolks, and the captain didn't want to killthe puppy one bit, but he had to, orelse they would all be dead now. Andand the reckoning was dead, I wonderwhat that means, and why it is dead sooften, and so they couldn't tell wherethey were, but they knew that therewere cannibals on almost all the islands,and this was the hungriest time of theyear for cannibals."

Here followed a few breathlessmoments, during which the captain, hiswife and child, and the faithful

members of the crew, were pulled up tothe wharf by the unaided arm of theboy John. He wrapped them in hotblankets and gave them brandy andpeanut taffy: the first because it waswhat they always did in books; thesecond because it was the best thing inthe world, and would take away thenasty taste of the brandy.

Leaving them in safety, and in floodsof grateful tears, the rescuer bent overthe side of the wharf once more, intenton saving the gallant ship from her fate;but at this moment came a strong swirlof tide, the log swung round oncemore and floated off, and the rescuerfell "all along" into the water. This was

nothing unusual, and he came puffingand panting up the slippery logs, andsat down again, shaking himself like aNewfoundland puppy. He wished theshipwrecked crew had not seen him; heknew he should get a whipping whenhe reached home, but that was of lessconsequence. Anyhow, she was an oldvessel, and now the captain would get anew ship a fine one, full rigged, withnew sails as white as snow; and on hisnext voyage he would take him, the boyJohn, in place of the faithless mate, andthey would sail away, away, down theriver and far across the ocean, and then,then he would hear the sound of thesea. After all, you never could hear it inthe river, though that was, oh, so much

better than nothing! But the things thatthe shells meant when they whispered,the things that the wind said over andover in the pine trees, those things younever could know until you heard thereal sound of the real sea.

The child rose and stretched himselfwearily. He had had a happy time, but itwas over now; he must leave the water,which he cared more for than foranything in the world, must leave thewater and go back to the small closehouse, and go to bed, and dream nomore dreams. Ah! when would someone come, no play hero, but a real one,in a white-sailed ship, and carry himoff, never to set foot on shore again

He turned to go, for the shadows werefalling, and already a fog had crept upthe river, almost hiding the brown,swiftly-flowing water; yet before leavingthe wharf he turned back once moreand looked up and down, with eyesthat strove to pierce the fog veil, eager,longing eyes of a child, who hopesevery moment to see the doors openinto fairy-land.

And lo! what was this that he saw Whatwas this that came gliding slowly,silently out of the dusk, out of thewhiteness, itself whiter than the riverfog, more shadowy than the films oftwilight The child held his breath, and

his heart beat fast, fast. A vessel, or theghost of a vessel Nearer and nearer itcame, and now he could see masts andspars, sails spread to catch the faintbreeze, gleaming brass-work about thedecks. A vessel, surely; yet, what wasthat The fog lifted for a moment, orelse his eyes grew better used to thedimness, and he saw a strange thing. Onthe prow of the vessel, which now wasseen to be a schooner, stood a figure; astatue, was it Surely it was a statue ofbronze, like the Soldiers' Monument,leaning against the mast, with foldedarms.

Nearer! Fear seized the boy, for hethought the statue had eyes like real

eyes, and he saw them move, as iflooking from right to left; the whitesglistened, the dark balls rolled fromside to side. The child stood still,feeling as if he had called up thisphantom out of his own thoughts;perhaps in another minute it wouldfade away into the fog, as it had come,and leave only the flowing tide and theshrouded banks on either side!

Nearer! and now the bronze figurelifted its arm, slowly, silently, andpointed at the boy. But this was morethan flesh and blood could stand; littleJohn uttered a choking cry, and turninghis back on the awful portent, ranhome as fast as he could lay foot to

ground. And on seeing this the bronzefigure laughed, and its teeth glistened,even as the eyes had done.

CHAPTER II.

THE SKIPPER.

The little boy slept brokenly that night.Bronze statues flitted through hisdreams, sometimes frowning darkly onhim, folding him in an iron clasp,dragging him down into the depths ofroaring whirlpools; sometimes, stillstranger to say, smiling, looking on himwith kindly eyes, and telling him that

the sea was not so far away as hethought, and that one day he shouldsee it and know the sound of it. Hisbed was a white schooner, there seemedno possible doubt of that; it tossed upand down as it lay by the wharf; andonce the lines were cast off, and he wasabout to be carried away, when up rosethe crew that he had rescued fromshipwreck, and cried with one voice,"No! no! he shall not go!" The voicewas that of Mr. Endymion Scraper, andnot a pleasant voice to hear; moreover,the voice had hands, lean and hard,which clutched the boy's shoulder, andshook him roughly; and at last, briefly,it appeared that it was time to get up,and that if the boy John did not get up

that minute, like the lazy good-for-nothing he was, Mr. Scraper would givehim such a lesson as he would notforget for one while.

John tumbled out of bed, and stoodrubbing his eyes for a moment, his witsstill abroad. The water heaved andsubsided under him, but presently ithardened into the garret floor. Hestaggered a few steps, as the hard handgave him a push and let him go, thenstood firm and looked about him.Gradually the room grew familiar; thepainted bed and chair, the window withits four small panes, which he loved topolish and clean, "so that the sky couldcome through," the purple mussel-shell

and the china dog, his sole treasuresand ornaments. The mussel was hisgreatest joy, perhaps; it had been givenhim by a fisherman, who had brought apocket-full back from his sea trip, toplease his own children. It made nosound, but the tint was pure and lovely,and it was lined with rainbow pearl.The dog was not jealous, for he knew(or the boy John thought he knew), thathe was, after all, the morecompanionable of the two, and that hewas talked to ten times for the mussel'sonce. John was telling him now, as hestruggled into his shirt and trousers,about the vision of last night, and thedreams that followed it. "And as soonas ever I have my chores done," he said,

and his eyes shone, and his cheekflushed at the thought, "as soon as ever,I'm going down there, just to see. Ofcourse, I suppose it isn't there, youknow; but then, if it should be!"

The dog expressed sympathy in hisusual quiet way, and was of theopinion that John should go by allmeans, for, after all, who could say thatthe vision might not have been realityWhen one considered the stories onehad read! and had not the dog justheard the whole of "Robinson Crusoe"read aloud, bit by bit, in stealthywhispers, by early daylight, bymoonlight, by stray bits of candlebegged from a neighbor, had he not

heard and appreciated every word ofthe immortal story He was no ignorantdog, indeed! His advice was worthhaving.

Breakfast was soon eaten; it did nottake long to eat breakfast in Mr.Scraper's house. The chores were amore serious matter, for every spoonand plate had to be washed to the tuneof a lashing tongue, and under an eyethat withered all it lighted on. But atlast, at last the happy hour came whenthe tyrant's back was turned, and thetyrant's feet tottered off in the directionof the post-office. The daily purchases,the daily gossip at the "store," wouldfill the rest of the morning, as John

well knew. He listened in silence to thecharges to "keep stiddy to work, and gitthat p'tater-patch wed by noon;" hewatched the departure of histormentor, and went straight to thepotato-patch, duty and fear leading himby either hand. The weeds had nosafety of their lives that day; he was intoo great a hurry to dally, as he loved todo, over the bigger stalks of pigweed,the giants which he, with his trustysword only it was a hoe wouldpresently dash to the earth and behead,and tear in pieces. Even the sprawlingpusley-stems, which generally playedthe part of devil-fish and tarantulasand various other monsters, suffered noamputation of limb by limb, but were

torn up with merciful haste, and flungin heaps together.

Was the potato-patch thoroughly "wed" I hardly know. But I know that in lessthan an hour after Mr. EndymionScraper started for the village the boyJohn was on his way to the wharf.

As he drew near the river he found thatsomething was the matter with hisbreath. It would not come regularly, butin gasps and sighs; his heart beat sohard, and was so high up in his throathe was almost choked. Would he seeanything when he turned the cornerthat led down to the wharf And ifanything, what Then he shut his eyes

and turned the corner.

The schooner was there. No longerspectral or shadowy, she lay in plainsight by the wharf, her trim linespleasant to look at, her decks shiningwith neatness, her canvas all spread outto dry, for the night dew had beenheavy. Lifting his fearful eyes, the childsaw the bronze figure standing in thebow, but now it was plainly seen to be aman, a swarthy man, with close-curledblack hair, and bright, dark eyes. Twoother men were lounging about thedeck, but John took little heed of them.This man, the strangest he had everseen, claimed his whole thought. Hewas as dark as the people in the

geography book, where the pictures ofthe different races were; not anEthiopian, evidently (John loved thelong words in the geography book),because his nose was straight and hislips thin; perhaps a Malay or an Arab.If one could see a real Arab, one couldask him about the horses, and whetherthe dates were always sticky, and whathe did in a sandstorm, and lots ofinteresting things. And then a Malay,why, you could ask him how he feltwhen he ran amuck, only, perhaps, thatwould not be polite.

These meditations were interrupted bya hail from the schooner. It was thedark man himself who spoke, in a quiet

voice that sounded kind.

"Good-morning, sir! Will you comeaboard this morning "

John was not used to being called "Sir,"and the word fell pleasantly on ears thatshrank from the detested syllable"Bub," with which strangers were wontto greet him.

"Yes, if you please," he answered, withsome dignity. It is, perhaps, difficult tobe stately when one is only five feet tall,but John felt stately inside, as well asshy. The stranger turned and made asign to the other men, who camequickly, bringing a gang-plank, which

they ran out from the schooner's deckto the wharf. The Skipper, for such thedark man appeared to be, made a signof invitation, and after a moment'shesitation, John ran across and stoodon the deck of the white schooner. Washe still dreaming Would he wake in amoment and find himself back in thegarret at home, with Mr. Scrapershaking him

"Welcome, young gentleman!" said theSkipper, holding out his hand."Welcome! the first visitor to theschooner. That it is a child, brings luckfor the next voyage, so we owe you athank. We arrived last night only. Andwhat is my young gentleman's name "

"My name is John," said the boy,standing with down-cast eyes beforethis wonderful person.

"And mine!" said the Skipper, "twoJohns, the black and the red. Youshould be called Juan Colorado, foryour hair of red gold."

The boy looked up quickly, his cheekflushing; he did not like to be laughedat; but the Skipper's face was perfectlygrave, and only courtesy and hospitalityshone from his dark eyes.

"I wonder what the schooner's nameis!" John said, presently, speaking low,

and addressing his remarks apparentlyto the mast, which he kicked gentlywith his foot.

"The schooner is the 'Nautilus,' younggentleman!"

The reply came from the Skipper, notfrom the mast, yet it was still to thelatter that the boy made his nextobservation.

"I wonder where she comes from, andwhere she is going, and what she isgoing to do here!" And havingdelivered himself breathlessly of theseremarks, the boy John wished he couldsqueeze through a port-hole, or melt

away into foam, or get away somehow,anyhow.

But now he felt himself lifted in strongarms, and set on the rail of the vessel,with his eyes just opposite those of theSkipper, so that he could not look upwithout meeting them; and on solooking up, it became evidentimmediately that this was the kindestman in the world, and that he likedboys, and that, finally, there was nothingto be afraid of. On which John heaveda mighty sigh of relief, and then smiled,and then laughed.

"I like to know things!" he said, simply.

"Me, too," replied the Skipper. "I alsolike to know things. How else shall webecome wise, Juan Colorado Nowlisten, and you shall hear. Thisschooner is the 'Nautilus,' as I say, andshe is a Spanish schooner. Yes;" (inreply to the question in the boy's eyes,)"I am partly a Spanish man, but not all.I have other mankind in me, younggentleman. We come from the Bahamas.Do you know where are they, theBahamas "

John nodded. He liked geography, andstood at the head of his class. "Part ofthe West Indies," he said, rapidly. "Low,coral islands. One of them, SanSalvador, is said to be the first land

discovered by Columbus in 1492.Principal exports, sugar, coffee, cotton,tobacco, and tropical fruits. Belong toGreat Britain. That's all I know."

"Caramba!" said a handsome youth,who was lounging on the rail a few feetoff, gazing on with idle eyes, "you gotthe schoolmaster here, Patron! I did notknow all that, me, and I come, too,from Bahamas. Say, you teach a school,M'sieur "

"Franci!" said the Patron, gravely.

"Si, Senor!" said Franci, with a beautifulsmile, which showed his teeth underhis black mustache.

"There is a school of flying-fish in thecabin. Better see to them!"

"Si, Senor!" said Franci, anddisappeared down the hatchway.

"Is there " asked the boy John, withgreat eyes of wonder. The Skippersmiled, and shook his head.

"Franci understands me," he said. "Iwish to tell him that he go about hisbusiness, and not linger, as you say, loafabout the deck. I take a little way roundabout, but he understands very well,Franci. And of all these exports, whatdoes the young gentleman think I have

brought from the Bahamas "

"I I was just wondering!" Johnconfessed; but he did not add his secrethope that it was something moreinteresting than cotton or tobacco.

The Skipper turned and made a quick,graceful gesture with his hand."Perhaps the young gentleman like tosee my cargo," he said. "Do me thefavor!" and he led the way down to thecabin.

Now it became evident to the boy thatall had indeed been a dream. Itsometimes happened that way,dreaming that you woke and found it

all true, and then starting up to findthat the first waking had been ofdream-stuff too, that it was meltingaway from your sight, from your grasp;even things that looked so real, so real,he pinched himself violently, andshook his head, and tried to breakloose from fetters of sleep, binding himto such sweet wonders, that he mustlose next moment; but no waking came,and the wonders remained.

The cabin was full of shells. Acrossone end of the little room ran a glazedcounter, where lay heaped togethervarious objects of jewelry, shellnecklaces, alligator teeth and sea-beansset in various ways, tortoise-shell

combs, bracelets and hairpins, adazzling array. Yet the boy's eyes passedalmost carelessly over these treasures, tolight with quick enchantment on theshells themselves, the real shells, as heinstantly named them to himself,resenting half-consciously the turningof Nature's wonders into objects ofvulgar adornment.

The shells were here, the shells werethere, the shells were all around! Shelfabove shelf of them, piled in heaps,lying in solitary splendor, arranged inpatterns, John had never, in his wildestdreams, seen so many shells. Half thepoetry of his little life had been in thelovely forms and colors that lay behind

the locked glass doors in Mr. Scraper'sparlor; for Mr. Scraper was a collectorof shells in a small way. John hadsupposed his collection to be, if notthe only one in the world, at least themost magnificent, by long odds; yethere were the old man's precious unitsmultiplied into tens, into twenties,sometimes into hundreds, and all lyingopen to the day, as if anyone, even asmall one, even a little boy, who almostnever had anything in his hand moreprecious than his own purple mussel athome, might touch and handle themand feel himself in heaven.

They gleamed with the banded gloriesof the rainbow: they softened into the

moonlight beauty of the pearl; theyveiled their loveliness in milky clouds,through which the color showed aspure and sweet as the cheek of a bride;they glowed with depths of red andflame that might almost burn to thetouch.

The little boy stood with clasped hands,and sobbed with excitement. "Did youdig up all the sea " he asked, in awonder that was not without reproach."Are there none left any more, at all "

The Skipper laughed quietly. "Themermaids see not any difference, sir,"he said. "Where I take one shell fromits rock, I leave a hundred, a thousand.

The sea is a good mother, she hasplenty children. See!" he added, lifting asplendid horned shell, "this is the RoyalTriton. On a rock I found him, twentyfathom down. It was a family party, Ithink, for all around they lay, someclinging to the rock, some in the mud,some walking about. I take one, two,three, put them in my pouch; up I go,and the others, they have a little moreroom, that's all."

John's eyes glowed in his head.

"I I should like to see that!" he cried."What is it like down there Do sharkscome by, swish! with their great tailsAnd why don't they eat you, like the

man in the geography book And isthere really a sea-serpent And do theoysters open and shut their mouths, sothat you can see the pearls, or how doyou know which are the right ones

"There are a great many things that Ihave thought about all my life," he said,"and nobody could ever tell me. Thebottom of the sea, that is what I wantmost in the world to know about."

He paused, out of breath, and wouldhave been abashed at his own boldness,had not the Skipper's eyes told him soperfectly that they had understood allabout it, and that there was no sort ofreason why he should not ask all the

questions he liked.

They were wonderful eyes, those of theSkipper. Most black eyes are wanting inthe depths that one sounds in blue, orgray, in brown, more rarely in hazeleyes; they flash with an outwardbrilliancy, they soften into velvet, butone seldom sees through them into theheart. But these eyes, though blackbeyond a doubt, had the darkness ofdeep, still water, when you look into itand see the surface mantling with abluish gloss, and beneath that depthupon depth of black clear, serene,unfathomable. And when a smile cameinto them, ah, well! we all know howthat same dark water looks when the

sun strikes on it. The sun struck now,and little John felt warm andcomfortable all through his body andheart.

"The bottom of the sea " said theSkipper, taking up a shell and polishingit on his coat-sleeve. "Yes, that is a fineplace, Colorado. You mind not that Icall you Colorado It pleases me, thename. A fine place, truly. You havenever seen the sea, young gentleman "

The boy shook his head.

"Never, really!" he said. "I I've dreamedabout it a great deal, and I think aboutit most of the time. There's a picture in

my geography book, just a piece of sea,and then broken off, so that you don'tsee any end to it; that makes it seemreal, somehow, I don't know why.

"But I've heard the sound of it!" headded, his face brightening. "There's ashell in Mr. Scraper's parlour, on themantelpiece, and sometimes when hegoes to sleep I can get it for a minute,and hold it to my ear, and then I hearthe sound, the sound of the sea."

"Yes," said the Skipper, taking upanother shell from one of the shelves, atiger cowry, rich with purple andbrown. "The sound of the sea; that is agood thing. Listen here, young

gentleman, and tell me what the tigersay to you of the sea."

He held the shell to the boy's ear, andsaw the colour and the light come like awave into his face. They were silent fora moment; then the child spoke, lowand dreamily.

"It doesn't say words, you know!" hesaid. "It's just a soft noise, like what thepine-trees make, but it sounds cool andgreen and and wet. And there are wavesa long way off, curling over and over,and breaking on white beaches, andthey smell good and salt. And it seemsto make me know about things downunder the sea, and bright colours

shining through the water, and lightcoming 'way down cool, green light,that doesn't make you wink when youlook at it. And and I guess there are lotsof fishes swimming about, and theireyes shine, too, and they move just assoft, and don't make any noise, nomore than if their mother was sick inthe next room. And on the groundthere seem to be like flowers, only theymove and open and shut without anyone touching them. And and "

Was the boy going into a trance Werethe dark eyes mesmerizing him, or wasall this to be heard in the shell TheSkipper took the shell gently from hishand, and stroked his hair once or

twice, quickly and lightly. "That willdo!" he said. "The young gentleman canhear truly. All these things are under thesea, yes, and more, oh, many more!Some day you shall see them, younggentleman; who knows But now comesFranci to make the dinner. Will SenorColorado dine with the Skipper fromthe Bahamas Welcome he will be, truly."

Little John started, and a guilty flushswept over his clear face.

"I forgot!" he cried. "I forgot all abouteverything, and Cousin Scraper will behome by this time, and and I'll have tobe going, please; but I'll come again, ifyou think I may."

The Skipper had raised his eyebrows atthe name of Scraper, and was nowlooking curiously at the boy. "Who isthat you say " he asked. "Scraper, yourcousin And of your father, younggentleman, why do you not speak ofhim "

"My father is dead," replied little John."And my mother too, a good while ago.I don't remember father. Mother " hebroke off, and dropped his eyes to hidethe tears that sprang to them. "Motherdied a year ago," he said; "ever sincethen I've lived with Cousin Scraper.He's some sort of kin to father, and hesays he's my guardian by law."

"His other name " suggested the darkman, quietly. "For example, Endymion"

"Why, yes!" cried John, raising hishonest blue eyes in wonder. "Do youknow him, sir Have you ever been herebefore "

The Skipper shook his head. "Not ofmy life!" he said. "Yet I make a guess atthe name; perhaps of this gentleman Ihave heard. He he is a kind person,Colorado "

John hung his head. He knew that hemust not speak evil; his mother had

always told him that; yet what else wasthere to speak about Cousin Scraper"He he collects shells!" he faltered, aftera pause, during which he was consciousof the Skipper's eyes piercing throughand through him, and probably seeingthe very holes in his stockings. But nowthe Skipper threw back his head with alaugh.

"He collects shells, eh My faith, I havecome to the right place, I with my'Nautilus.' See, young gentleman! I gowith my shells where I think is goodmarket. In large cities, many rich peoplewho collect shells. I sell many, many,some very precious. Never have I comeup this river of great beauty; but I say,

who knows Maybe here are personswho know themselves, who have thefeeling of shells in their hearts. I find,first you, Colorado; and that you havethe feeling in your heart I see, at thefirst look you give to my pretties here.That you have the fortune to live with acollector, that I could not guess, ha Heis kind, I say, this Scraper He loves youas a son, he gives you his shells to lookat, to care for as your own "

John hung his head again.

"He keeps them locked up," headmitted. "I never had one in my hand,except the one on the mantelpiece,sometimes when he goes to sleep after

dinner. I I must be going now!" hecried in desperation, making his way tothe gang-plank. "I must get home, orhe'll "

"What he will do " the Skipperinquired, holding the plank in his hand."What he do to you, young gentleman,eh A little scold you, because you staytoo long to talk with the Skipper fromthe Bahamas, hey No more than that, isit not "

"He'll beat me," cried little John, drivenfairly past himself. "He beats me everytime I'm late, or don't get my workdone. I thank you ever so much forbeing so kind, but I can't stay another

minute."

"Adios, then, Senor Colorado!" said theSkipper, with a stately bow. "You comesoon again, I pray you. And if you willtell Sir Scraper, and all those others,your friends, the shell schooner is here.Exhibition in a few hours ready, free toall. Explanation and instruction whendesired by intelligent persons desiringof to know the habits under the sea.Schooner 'Nautilus,' from the Bahamas,with remarkable collection of shellsand marine curiosities. Adios, SenorJuan Colorado!"

CHAPTER III.

A GREAT EXHIBITION.

Little John was not the one to spreadthe tidings of the schooner's arrival. Hehad to take his whipping, a hard one itwas! and then he was sent down intothe cellar to sift ashes, as the mostunpleasant thing that could be devisedfor a fine afternoon. But the newsspread, for all that. John was not theonly boy in the village of Tidewater,and by twelve o'clock every man,woman and child was talking about thenew arrival; and by two o'clock, thedinner dishes being put away, and thetime of the evening chores still some

hours off, nearly every man, womanand child was hastening in the directionof the wharf. Of course the boys weregoing. It was vacation time, and whatelse should boys do but see all that wasto be seen And of course it was theduty of the elders to see that thechildren came to no harm. So thefathers were strolling leisurely down,saying to each other that 'twas allnonsense, most likely, and nothingworth seeing, but some one ought to belooking out that the boys and thewomen folks didn't get cheated. Themothers were putting on their bonnets,in the serene consciousness that ifanyone was going to be cheated it wasnot they, and that goodness knew what

those men-folks would be up to onthat schooner if they were left tothemselves. And the little girls wereshaking the pennies out of their moneyboxes, or if they had no boxes,watching with eager eyes their morefortunate sisters. Truly, it was a greatday in the village.

The Skipper welcomed one and all. Hestood by the gang-plank, and Francistood by him, cap in hand, smiling in abeautiful way. On the rail were perchedtwo little monkeys, their arms roundeach other's shoulders, their bright eyeswatching with eager curiosity all thatwent on. When the Skipper bowed,they bowed; when he smiled, they

grinned; and when he put out his handto help a woman or a child aboard, theylaid their hands on their hearts, andtried to look like Franci. The Skipperwas their lord and master, and theyloved and feared him, and did hisbidding as often as their nature wouldallow; but in the depths of their littlemonkey hearts they cherished aprofound admiration for Franci, andthey were always hoping that this timethey were looking like him when theysmiled. (But they never were!)

The only other visible member of thecrew was a long, lazy-looking Yankee,whom the Skipper called Rento, andthe others plain "Rent," his full name

of Laurentus Woodcock being morethan they could away with. But it wasnot to see the crew, neither theschooner (though she was a prettyschooner enough, as anybody whoknew about such matters could see),that the village had come out; it was tosee the exhibition, and the exhibitionwas ready for them. An awning wasspread over the after-deck, and underthis was arranged with care the maincollection of corals and shells, thecommoner sorts, such as found a readysale at low prices. There was pure whitecoral, in long branches, studded withtiny points, like the wraith of the fairythorn; there were great piles of thedelicate fan-coral, which the sailors call

sea-fans, and which Franci would holdout to every girl who had any pretenceto good looks, with his most graciousbow, and "Young lady like to fanherself, keep the sun off, here you air,ladies!" While Laurentus would blushand hang his head if any womanaddressed him, and would murmur thewrong price in an unintelligible voice ifthe woman happened to be young andpretty.

Then there were mushroom corals, soinviting that one could hardly refrainfrom carrying them home and cookingthem for tea; and pincushion corals,round and hard, looking as if they hadbeen stolen from the best bedroom of

some uncompromising New Englandmermaid. Yes; there was no end to thecorals. The lovely white branches werecheap, and nearly every child went offwith a branch, small or large, dwellingon it with eyes of rapture, seeingnothing else in the world, in some casesfailing to see even the way, and beingrescued from peril of water by theSkipper or Rento. The favourite shellswere the conches, of all sizes andvarieties, from the huge pink-lippedTritons of the "Triumph of Galatea,"down to fairy things, many-whorled,rainbow-tinted, which were included inthe "handful for five cents" whichFranci joyously proclaimed at intervals,when he thought the children looked

wistful and needed cheering up, sincethey could not have all they saw.

But the Cypraeas were beautiful, too,and of every colour, from white orpalest amber to deep sullen purples andbrowns that melted into ebony. Thesewere the shells with voices, that spokeof the sea; many a child raised them tohis ear, and listened with vague delightto the far-away, uncertain murmur; butnot to every child is it given to hear thesound of the sea, and it may bedoubted whether any boy or girl wouldhave understood what the boy Johnmeant, if he had declared the thingsthat the shell had said to him.

Where was John Franci and Rento hadcharge of the deck exhibition, but theSkipper kept his station at the head ofthe gang-plank, and while courteouslyreceiving his visitors, with a word ofwelcome for each, he looked often upthe road to see if his little friend wascoming. He thought the gleam of redhair would brighten the landscape; butit came not, and the Skipper was notone to neglect a possible customer.Now and again he would touch someone on the arm, and murmur gently,"In a few moments presently, otherexhibition in the cabin, to which I havethe pleasure of invite you. I attend inperson, which is free to visitors."

He spoke without accent, the Skipper,but his sentences were sometimesframed on foreign models, and it wasno wonder if now and then he met ablank stare. He looked a little bored,possibly; these faces, full of idlewonder, showed no trace of thecollector's eager gaze; yet he wascontent to wait, it appeared. Mr. BillHen Pike judged, from the way inwhich everything was trigged up, thatthe schooner "cal'lated to make somestay hereabouts;" and the Skipper didnot contradict him, but bowed gravely,and said, "In a few moments,gentleman, do me the honour todescend to the cabin, where I take thepleasure of exhibit remarkable

collection of shells."

But now the Skipper raised his head,and became in a moment keenly alert;for a new figure was seen making itsslow way to the wharf, a new figure,and a singular one.

An old man, white-haired and wizen,with a face like a knife-blade, and red,blinking eyes. The face wore a look ofeager yet doleful anticipation, as of aman going to execution and possessedwith an intense desire to feel the edgeof the axe. His thin fingers twitchedand fumbled about his pockets, his lipsmoved, and he shook his head fromtime to time. This old gentleman was

clad in nankeen trousers of ancient cut,a velvet waistcoat and a blue swallow-tail coat, all greatly too large for him.His scant locks were crowned by acheap straw hat of the newest make, hisshoes and gaiters were of a twenty-year-old pattern. Altogether, he was notan ordinary-looking old gentleman, norwas his appearance agreeable; but thevillage people took no special notice ofhim, being well used to Mr. EndymionScraper and his little ways. They knewthat he was wearing out the clothes thathis extravagant uncle had left behindhim at his death, twenty years ago. Theyhad seen three velvet waistcoats wornout, and one of brocade; there weresixteen left, as any woman in the village

could tell you. As for the nankeentrousers, some people said there wereten dozen of them in the great oakchest, but that might be anexaggeration.

Walking just behind this pleasant oldperson, with feet that tried to gosedately, and not betray by hopping andskippings the joy that was in them,came the boy John; brought along incase there should be a parcel to carry.Mr. Scraper had brought, too, hissupple bamboo cane, in case of need; itwas a cane of singular parts, and had away that was all its own of curlingabout the legs and coming up "rap"against the tender part of the calf. The

boy John was intimately acquaintedwith the cane; therefore, when his legsrefused to go steadily, but danced inspite of him, he had dropped behindMr. Endymion, and kept well out ofreach of the searching snake ofpolished cane.

The Skipper greeted the new-comerwith his loftiest courtesy, which wasquite thrown away on the oldgentleman.

"Hey! hey!" said Mr. Scraper, noddinghis head, and fumbling in his waistcoatpocket, "got some shells, I hear! Gotsome shells, eh Nothing but rubbish,I'll swear; nothing but rubbish. Seen

'em all before you were born; not worthlooking at, I'll bet a pumpkin."

"Why, Deacon Scraper, how you dotalk!" exclaimed pretty Lena Brown,who was standing near by. "The shellsare just elegant, I think; too handsomefor anything."

"All rubbish! all rubbish!" the oldgentleman repeated, hastily. "Children'snonsense, every bit of it. Have you gotanything out of the common, thoughhave you, hey "

He looked up suddenly at the Skipper,screwing his little eyes at him likeanimated corkscrews; but he read

nothing in the large, calm gaze that methis.

"The gentleman please to step down inthe cabin," the Skipper said, with astately gesture. "At liberty in a moment,I shall take the pleasure to exhibit mycollection. The gentleman is a collector" he added, quietly; but this Mr. Scraperwould not hear of.

"Nothing of the sort!" he cried, testily,"nothing of the sort! Just came downhere with this fool boy, to keep himfrom falling into the water. Don't knowone shell from another when I see 'em."

This astounding statement brought a

low cry from John, who had beenstanding on one foot with joy and onthe other with fear, the grave dignity ofhis new friend filling him with awe.Perhaps he would not be noticed now,when all the grown people were here;perhaps but his thoughts were put toflight by Mr. Scraper's words. John wasa truthful boy, and he could not havethe Spanish man think he had lied insaying that the old man was a collector.He was stepping forward, his face alightwith eager protest, when Mr. EndymionScraper brought his cane round with abackward sweep, catching John on thelegs with spiteful emphasis. TheSkipper saw it, and a dark red flushedthrough the bronze of his cheek. His

glance caught the child's and held it,speaking anger, cheer, and the promiseof better things; the boy dropped backand rubbed his smarting shins, wellcontent, with a warm feeling about theheart.

"The gentleman will step down to thecabin," said the deep, quiet voice. "I willattend him, the ladies also."

He led the way, and pretty Lena Browncame next; she glanced up at him as heheld out his strong hand to help herdown the ladder. Her blue eyes werevery sweet as she met his gaze, and thefaint wild-rose blush became her well.Certainly, Lena was a very pretty girl.

Franci nearly tumbled over thecompanion-rail in his endeavours tolook after her, and LaurentusWoodcock, catching one glimpse ofher face, retreated to the farthest cornerof the after-deck, and sold a Triton forten cents, when the lowest price wasthirty.

Several other persons came down intothe cabin at the same time. There wasMr. Bill Hen Pike. Mr. Bill Hen hadbeen a sailor himself fifty years ago,and it was a point of honour with himto visit anything with keel and sails thatcame up the river. He used nauticalexpressions whenever it could bemanaged, and was the village authority

on all sea-going matters.

There were Isaac Cutter and his wife,who had money to spend, and were notaverse to showing it; there was MissEliza Clinch, who had spent her fiftyyears of life in looking for a bargain,which she had not yet found; and someothers. But though the Skipper wascourteous to all, he kept close to theside of Mr. Endymion Scraper; and theboy John, and Lena Brown, who wasalways kind to him, kept close besidethe other two. The girl was enchantedwith what she saw, but her joy waschiefly in the trinkets that filled theglass counter, the necklaces andbracelets, the shell hairpins and mother-

of-pearl portemonnaies.

"Aint they handsome " she cried, overand over, surveying the treasures withclasped hands and shining eyes. "Oh,Johnny! isn't that just elegant Did youever see such beautiful things I don'tthink the President's wife has nohandsomer than them!"

John frowned a little at these ecstasies,and glanced at the Skipper; but theSkipper was apparently absorbed inpolishing the Royal Tritons, andshowing them to Mr, Scraper, whoregarded them with disdainful eyes,while his fingers twitched to lay holdof them.

"Why, Lena, you don't want to belooking at those things!" the boy urged."See! here are the shells! Here are thereal ones, not made up into truck, butjust themselves. Oh, oh! Lena, look!"

The Skipper was coming forward witha shell in his hand of exquisite colourand shape.

"Perhaps the young lady like to see this" he said. "This the Voluta Musica, avaluable shell, young lady. You look,and see the lines of the staff on theshell, so Here they run, you see! Themermaids under the water, they haveamong themselves no sheet-music, so

on shells they must read it. Can theyoung lady follow the notes if she takethe shell in her hand "

He laid the lovely thing in the girl'shand, and marked how the polished lipand the soft pink palm wore the sametender shade of rose; but he saidnothing of this, for he was not Franci.

Lena examined the shell curiously. "Itdoes look like music!" she said. "Butthere ain't really any notes, are there Notlike our notes, I mean. If there was, Ishould admire to see how theysounded on the reed organ. It wouldmake a pretty pin, if 't wasn't so big!"

She was about to hand the shell backquietly she looked like a rose-leaf inmoonlight, this pretty Lena, but shewas practical, and had little imaginationbut John caught it from her with a swiftyet timorous motion.

"I want to hear it," he said, his pleadingeyes on the Skipper's face. "I want tohear what it says!"

The dark man nodded and smiled; buta moment later, seeing the lean fingersof Mr. Endymion Scraper about toclutch the treasure, he took it quietly inhis own hand again, and turned to theold man.

"Gentleman spoke to me " he inquired,blandly.

The gentleman had not spoken, buthad made a series of gasps and grunts,expressive of extreme impatience andeagerness.

"That's a poor specimen," he cried now,eying the shell greedily, "a very poorspecimen! What do you expect to getfor it, hey "

"A perfect specimen!" replied theSkipper, calmly. "The gentleman has butto look at it closer" and he held itnearer to the greedy corkscrew eyes "tosee that it is a rare specimen, more

perfect than often seen in museums. Ibrought up this shell myself, with carechoosing it; its price is five dollars."

Mr. Endymion Scraper gave a scream,which he tried to turn into a disdainfulchuckle.

"Five cents would be nearer it!" hecried, angrily. "Think we're all foolsdown here, hey Go 'long with your fivedollars."

"No, Senor, not all fools!" said theSkipper. "Many varieties among men, asamong shells. I am in no haste to sellthe Voluta Musica. It has its price, asgentleman knows by his catalogue.

Here is a razor-shell; perhaps thegentleman like that. Shave yourself orother people with this!"

"I want to know!" interposed Mrs. IsaacCutter, leaning forward eagerly,spectacles on nose. "Can folks reallyshave with those, sir They do looksharp, now, don't they What might youask for a pair "

"Perhaps not very easy to grind, lady!"replied the Skipper, with a smile whichwon Mrs. Isaac's heart. "Not a rareshell, only fifty cents the pair. Thankyou, madam! To show you this Withgladness! This is the Bleeding Toothshell, found in plenty in West Indies.

They have also dentists under the sea,graciously observe. See here, the wholefamily! The baby, he have as yet notooth, the little gum smooth and white.Here, the boy! (Como ti, Juan Colorado!"this in a swift aside, caught only byJohn's ear.) "The boy, he have a toothpulled, you observe, madam; here theempty space, with blood-mark, thus.Hence the name, Bleeding Tooth. Herethe father, getting old, has lost twoteeth, bleeding much; and this being theold grandfather, all teeth are gone,again. Yes, curious family! You kindlyaccept these persons, madam, with awish that you never suffer of thismanner."

Mrs. Isaac Cutter drew a long breath,and took the shells with a look ofdelighted awe. "Well, I'm sure!" shesaid, "you're more than kind, sir. I neverthought I do declare Bleeding Tooth!Well, father, if that isn't something totell the folks at home!" Mr. Isaac Cuttergrunted, well pleased, and said, "Thatso!" several times, his vocabulary beinglimited.

"Again, here," the Skipper continued,with a glance around, to make sure thathis audience was attentive, "again, herea curious thing, ladies and gentlemen.The Nighthawk shell, not common inany part of the world. The two halvesheld together of this manner, behold

the nighthawk, as he flies through theair!"

A murmur of delight ran through thelittle group, and Mr. Endymion Scraperedged to the front, his fingers twitchingconvulsively.

"How much how much do you wantfor that Nighthawk " he asked,stammering with eagerness. "'Taintwuth much, but what ten dollars I'llgive ye three, and not a cent more."

But the Skipper put him aside with awave of his hand.

"Another time, sir," he said; "at future

interview I will make arrangementswith you, and hope to satisfy; at presentI instruct these ladies a little in lifeunder the sea.

"Lady," he said, and it was observablethat although he spoke to Mrs. IsaacCutter, his eyes rested on Lena, and onthe boy John, who stood behind her,"Nature of her abundance is verygenerous to the sea. Here all fishesswim, great and small; but more! Allthings that on earth find their place, ofthem you find a picture, copy, what youplease to call it, at the bottom of thesea. A few only are yet found by men,yet strange things also have I seen. Notunder the ocean do you think to find

violets growing, is it so yet here youobserve a handful of violets, in colouras on a green bank, though withoutperfume, the sunshine wanting in thoseplaces."

He drew from a box some of theexquisite little violet snail-shells, andgave them to Lena, who cried out withdelight, and instantly resolved to have apair of ear-rings made of them.

"The ladies are hungry " the quiet voicewent on. "They desire breakfast I offerthem a poached egg, grown under thesea. The colour and shape perfect; thewater ladies eat them every morning,but with the air they grow hard and

lose their flavour. Thank you, madam!for thirty cents only, the poached egg,not a rare variety. Your smile perhapswill make it soft again. I hope youenjoy it at luncheon.

"But before luncheon you desire toprepare your charming toilet Here Ioffer you a comb, ladies, as they useunder the sea. The story, that Venus,goddess of beauty, when she rose fromthe ocean, dropped from her hand thecomb with which she arranged eventhen her locks of gold: hence the name,Venus's Comb. Observe the long teeth,necessary for fine hair, like that ofVenus and these ladies."

Mrs. Isaac Cutter bridled, smoothed her"fluffy Fedora" (price one dollar andfifty cents, ready curled), and boughtthe "comb" on the spot.

"Of little boys under the sea," theSkipper continued, and once more hissmile fell on the boy John, andproduced that agreeable sensation ofwarmth about the heart to which thelittle fellow had been longunaccustomed, "there are many. Theyswim about, they play, they sport, theygo to school, as little boys here. Theyride, some persons have told me, on thehorse-mackerel, but of that I have noknowledge. I see for myself, however,that they play tops, the small sea-boys.

Here, little gentleman, is the ImperialTop, very beautiful shell. You like totake it in your hand "

John took the splendid thing, andstraightway lost himself and the worldin a dream of rapture, in which hedescended to the depths that his souldesired, and played at spinning topswith the sea-boys, and rode a horse-mackerel, and did many otherwonderful things.

"The bat shell!" the Skipper went on,lifting one treasure and then another."The Voluta Aulica, extremely rare, theMitres, worn by bishops under the sea.The bishops must be chosen very small,

lady, to fit the shell, since shells weremade first. The Queen Conch! Thisagain, pardon me, gentleman, youdesire to assist me Too kind, but I shallnot give that trouble to a visitor!"

The last remark was addressed to Mr.Endymion Scraper, who had for the lastfive minutes been sidling quietly, and ashe thought unobserved, toward theshelf on which lay the Voluta Musica.His claw-like fingers, after hoveringover the prize, had finally closed uponit, and he was about to slip it into hispocket without more ado, when astrong brown hand descended uponhis wrist. The shell was quietly takenfrom him, and looking up in impotent

rage, he met the dark eyes of theSkipper gazing at him with cheerfulgravity.

"Price five dollars!" he murmured,courteously. "In a box, gentleman But,certainly! A valuable specimen. Thankyou kindly. Five-dollar bill, quite right!Exhibition is over for this morning,ladies and gentlemen, to resume inafternoon hours, if graciously pleasedto honour the shell schooner, schooner'Nautilus,' from the Bahamas, withremarkable collection of marinecuriosities."

CHAPTER IV.

ABOARD THE "NAUTILUS."

The shell schooner had many visitorsduring the next few days, as she lay bythe wharf; visitors, of whom a fewcame to buy, but by far the greater partto look and gossip, and see themonkeys, and ask questions. Themonkeys, Jack and Jim, were no smallpart of the attraction, being delightfullittle beasts, bright of eye and friendlyof heart, always ready to turn asomersault, or to run up the mast, or tomake a bow to the ladies (always withFranci in their hearts), as the Skipperdirected them.

Of course John was there at everyavailable minute, whenever he couldescape the searching of his guardian'seye and tongue; but Mr. Scraperhimself came several times to the"Nautilus;" so did pretty Lena Brown.There was no doubt that Lena was acharming girl. She looked likemoonlight, Rento thought; Johnthought so, too, though he knew thatthe resemblance went no further thanlooks. Her hair was soft and light, witha silvery glint when the sun struck it,and it had a pretty trick of falling downabout her forehead in two Madonna-like bands, framing the soft, rose-tintedcheeks sweetly enough, and hiding with

the pale shining tresses the narrownessof the white forehead.

Lena was apt to come with John, towhom she was always kind, though shethought him "cracked," and after a littledesultory hovering about the shells, forwhich she did not really care, exceptwhen they were made up with glassbeads, she was apt to sit down on theafter-deck, with John beside her (unlessthe Skipper appeared, in which case theboy flew to join his new friend), andwith Franci, or Rento, or both, sure tobe near by. The monkeys never failed tocome and nestle down beside the boy,and examine his pockets and chatterconfidentially in his ear; and John

always nodded and seemed tounderstand, which Lena consideredfoolishness. She thought she came outof pure kindness for the boy, because"that old gimlet never would let himcome alone, and the child was fairlypossessed about the shells;" but it is tobe doubted whether she would havecome so often if it had not been forFranci's admiring glances and Rento'sdeeper veneration, which seldom daredto look higher than the hem of hergown.

She would sit very demurely on theafter-deck, apparently absorbed in theshells and corals that lay spread beforeher; and by-and-by, it might be, Franci,

who did not suffer from shyness,would venture on something moredefinite than admiring glances.

He would show her the shells, makingthe most of his knowledge, which wasnot extensive, and calling in inventionwhen information failed; but he likedbetter to talk of himself, Franci, and onthat subject there was plenty to be said.He was a prince, he told Lena, in SouthAmerica, where he came from. This wasa poor country, miserable country; butin his own the houses were all ofmarble, pink marble, with mahoganydoor-steps.

"Is that so " Lena would say, raising her

limpid eyes to the dark velvety ones thatwere bent so softly on her.

"Oh, fine! fine!" said Franci. "Never Ieat from a china dish in my country;silver, all silver! Only the pigs eat fromchina. Drink wine, eat peaches and ice-cream all days, all time. My sister weargold clothes, trimmed diamonds, whenshe do her washing. Yes! Like to gothere " and he bent over Lena with anenchanting smile.

"Why do you tell such lies " asked John,whom Franci had not observed, as hewas lying in one of the schooner'sboats, with a monkey on either arm.Franci's smile deepened as he turned

toward the boy, swearing softly inSpanish, and feeling in his breast; but atthat moment Rento happened to strollthat way, blushing deeply at Lena'snearness, yet with a warlike expressionin his bright blue eyes. Franci told himhe was the son of a pig that had diedof the plague, and that he, Franci,devoutly hoped the son would sharethe fate of his mother, without time toconsult a priest. Rento replied that hecould jaw as much as he was a mind to,so long as he let the boy alone; andLena looked from one to the other witha flush on her pretty cheek, and aninstinct that made her heart beat a littlefaster.

Mr. Scraper's visits were apt to be madein the evening; his passion for shellswas like that for drink, and he wouldfain have hidden it from the eyes of hisneighbours. It was always a trial toFranci to know that the old miser, as hecalled Mr. Endymion, was in the cabin,and that he, Franci, must keep watchon deck while this withered anatomysat on the cabin chairs and drank withthe Patron. Franci's way of keepingwatch was to lie at full length on thedeck with his feet in the air, smokingcigarettes. It was not the regulation way,but Franci did not care for that. Thatbeast of a Rento was asleep, snoringlike a pig that he was, while his bettersmust keep awake and gaze at this

desolating prospect; the Patron was inthe cabin with the miser, and no onethought of the individual who alonegave charm to the schooner. He, Franci,would make himself as comfortable asmight be, and would not care a puff ofhis cigar if the schooner and all thatwere in it, except himself, should go tothe bottom the next minute. No! Ratherwould he dance for joy, and wave hishand, and cry, "Good voyage, Patron!Good voyage, brute of a pig-facedRento! Good voyage, old 'Nautilus!' Goall to the bottom with my blessing, andI dance on the wharf, and marry thepretty Lena, and get all the old miser'smoney, and wear velvet coats. Ah!Franci, my handsome little boy, why did

you let them send you to sea, hearts ofstone that they were! You, born toshine, to adorn, to break the hearts ofmaidens! Why tell me that!" He wavedhis legs in the air, and contemplatedwith delight their proportions, whichwere certainly exquisite. "Caramba!" hemurmured; "beauty, that is it! Otherwiseone might better be a swine, yes, truly!"

At this point, perhaps, Rento appeared,rubbing his eyes, evidently just awake,and ready to take his watch; whereuponthe beautiful one sat up, and, fixing hiseyes on his fellow-seaman, executed aseries of grimaces which did greatcredit to his invention and power offacial expression. Then he delivered

himself of an harangue in purestSpanish, to the effect that the day wasnot far distant when he, Franci, wouldslit Rento's nose with a knife, and carvehis initials on his cheeks, and finallyrun him through the so detestable bodyand give him to the fish to devour,though with strong fears of hisdisagreeing with them. To which Rentoreplied that he might try it just as soonas he was a mind to, but that at thispresent moment he was to get out;which the beautiful youth accordinglydid, retiring with a dancing step,expressive of scorn and disgust.

On one such night as this the scene inthe little cabin was a curious one. A

lamp burned brightly on the table, andits lights shone on a number of objects,some lying openly on the green table-cover, some reclining superbly in velvet-lined cases. Shells! Yes, but not suchshells as were heaped in profusion onshelf and counter. Those were lovely,indeed, and some of them ofconsiderable value; but it was a fortune,no less, that lay now spread before theeyes of the Skipper and his guest. Forthese were the days when fine shellscould not be bought on every hand, asthey can to-day; when a good specimenof the Imperial Harp brought twohundred and fifty dollars easily, andwhen a collector would give anything,even to the half of his kingdom (if he

were a collector of the right sort), for aPrecious Wentletrap.

It was a Wentletrap on which the littlered eyes of Mr. Endymion Scraper werefixed at this moment. The morocco casein which it lay was lined with crimsonvelvet, and the wonderful shell shonepurely white against the glowing colour,snow upon ice; for the body of theshell was semi-transparent, the densersubstance of the spiral whorls turningthem to heavy snow against the shiningclearness beneath them. Has any of myreaders seen a Precious WentletrapThen he knows one of the most

beautiful things that God has made.

Apparently the Skipper had just openedthe case, for Mr. Scraper was sittingwith his mouth wide open, staring at itwith greedy, almost frightened eyes.Truly, a perfect specimen of this shellwas, in those days, a thing seen only inkings' cabinets; yet no flaw appeared inthis, no blot upon its perfect beauty.The old miser sat and stared, and onlyhis hands, which clutched the table-cloth in a convulsive grasp, and hisgreedy eyes, showed that he was notturned to stone. He had been amazedenough by the other treasures, as theSkipper had taken them one by onefrom the iron safe in the corner, whose

door now hung idly open. Where hadbeen seen such Pheasants as these, thefragile, the exquisite, the rarely perfectEven the Australian Pheasant, rarest ofall, lay here before him, with itsmarvellous pencillings of rose andcarmine and gray. Mr. Endymion'smouth had watered at the meredescription of the shell in thecatalogue, but he had never thought tosee one, except the imperfect specimenin the museum at Havenborough. Here,too, was the Orange Cowry; here theBishop's Mitre, and the precious VolutaAulica; while yonder, what was thisman, that he should have a VolutaJunonia, of which only a fewspecimens are possessed in the known

world What did it all mean

The Skipper sat beside the table, quietand self-contained as usual. His arm layon the table, his hand was never farfrom the more precious shells, and hiseyes did not leave the old man's face;but he showed no sign of uneasiness.Why should he, when he could havelifted Mr. Endymion with his left handand set him at any minute at the top ofthe cabin stairs Now and then he tookup a shell with apparent carelessness(though in reality he handled them withfingers as fine as a woman's, knowingtheir every tenderest part, and wherethey might best be approached withoutoffence to their delicacy), looked it

over, and made some remark about itsquality or value; but for the most parthe was silent, letting the shells speak forthemselves and make their own effect.

The old man had been wheezing andgrunting painfully for some minutes,opening and shutting his hands, andactually scratching the table-cloth in hisdistress. At length he broke out, after along silence.

"Who are ye, I want to know Howcome you by these shells I knowsomething about what they're wuth thatis well, I know they aint wuth what yousay they are, well enough; but they airwuth a good deal, I know that. What I

want to understand is, what you're afterhere! What do you want, and why doyou show me these things if if youcome by them honestly. Hey "

The Skipper smiled meditatively. "Yes!"he said, "we all like to know things, partof our nature, sir part of our nature. I,now, I like to know things, too. Whatyou going to do with that boy, Mr.Scrape I like to know that. You tell me,and perhaps you hear something aboutthe shells, who know "

The old man's face darkened into a veryugly look.

"My name is Scraper, thank ye, not

Scrape!" he said, dryly; "and as for theboy, I don't know exactly where youcome in there."

The Skipper nodded. "True!" he said,tracing with his finger the fine lines ofthe Voluta Aulica; "you do not knowwhere I come in there. In us both,knowledge has a limit, Mr. Scraper; yet Iat the least am acquaint with your name.It is a fine name you have there,Endymion! You should be a person ofpoetry, with this and your love forshells, hein You love, without doubt, togaze on the moon, Sir Scraper You feelwith her a connection, yes "

"What the dickens are you talking

about " asked the old gentleman, testily."How much do you want to swindleme out of for this Junonia, hey not thatI shall buy it, mind ye!"

"Three hundred!" said the Skipper;"and a bargain at that!"

CHAPTER V.

MYSTERY.

John was at work in the garden. Atleast, so it would have appeared to anordinary observer; in reality he wascarrying on a sanguinary combat, and

dealing death on every side. His namewas George Washington, and he was atBunker Hill (where he certainly had nobusiness to be), and the British wereintrenched behind the cabbages."They've just got down into theground, they are so frightened!" he saidto himself, pausing to straighten hisaching back, and toss the red curls outof his eyes. "See 'em, all scroocheddown, with their feet in the earth, tryingto make believe they grow there! But I'llhave 'em out! Whack! there goes thegeneral. Come out, I say!" He wrestledfiercely with an enormous Britisher,disguised as a stalk of pig-weed, and,after a breathless tussle, dragged himbodily out of the ground, and flung his

headless corpse on the neighbouringpile of weeds.

"Ha! that was fine!" cried the boy. "Ishouldn't be a bit surprised if that wasGeorge the Third himself; it was uglyenough for him. Come up here! hi!down with you! Now Jack the Giant-Killer is coming to help me, and theBritish have got Cormoran (this wasbefore Jack killed him), and there'sgoing to be a terrible row." But GeneralWashington waves his gallant sword,and calls to his men, and says,

"Good morning, sir! you make a busyday, I see."

It was not General Washington whospoke. It was the Skipper, and he wasleaning on the gate and looking at theboy John and smiling. "You make abusy day," he repeated. "I think thereare soon no more weeds in Sir Scraper'sgarden."

"Oh, yes!" cried John, straighteninghimself again, and leaning on his trustyhoe. "There'll be just as many I begyour pardon! Good morning! I hopeyou are well; it is a very fine day.There'll be just as many of them to-morrow, or next day, certainly. I makebelieve they are the British, you see, andI've been fighting all the morning, and Ido think they are pretty well licked by

this time; but they don't stay licked, theBritish don't. I like them for that, don'tyou Even though it is a bother to go onfighting all the days of one's life."

"I also have noticed that of theBritish!" the Skipper said, noddinggravely. "But now you can rest a little,Juan Colorado Sir Scraper is at home,that you call him for me, say I desire tomake him the visit "

"No, he isn't at home," said John. "He'sgone down to the store for his mail.But please come in and wait, and he'llbe back soon. Do come in! It it's coolto rest, after walking in the sun."

It was the only inducement the childcould think of, but he offered it withright good-will. The Skipper assentedwith a smile and a nod, and the twopassed into the house together.

In the kitchen, which was the living-room of the house, John halted, andbrought a chair for his visitor, andprepared to play the host as well as hecould; but the visitor seemed, for somereason, not to fancy the kitchen. Helooked around with keen, searchingeyes, scanning every nook and corner inthe bare little room. Truly, there wasnot much to see. The old fireplace hadbeen blocked up, and in its place wasthe usual iron cooking-stove, with a

meagre array of pots and pans hangingbehind it. The floor was bare; thefurniture, a table and chair, with a stoolfor John. There was no provision forguests; but that did not matter, as Mr.Scraper never had guests. Altogether,there was little attraction in the kitchen,and the Skipper seemed curiouslydispleased with its aspect.

"There is no other room " he asked,after completing his survey. "No betterroom than this, Colorado Surely, theremust be one other; yes, of course!" headded, as if struck by a suddenthought. "His shells Mr. Scraper hasshells. They are where "

He paused and looked sharply at theboy. Little John coloured high. "The theshells " he stammered. "Yes, of course,sir, the shells are in another room, inthe parlour; but but I am not let go inthere, unless Mr. Scraper sends me."

"So!" said the dark man; "but for me,Colorado, how is it for me Mr. Scrapernever said to me that I must not go inthis parlour, you see. For you it is well,you do as you are told; you are a boythat makes himself to trust; for me, Iam a Skipper from the Bahamas, I dosome things that are strange to you,among them, this. I go into theparlour."

He nodded lightly, and leaving the childopen-mouthed in amazement, openedthe sacred door, the door of the bestparlour, and went in, as unconcernedlyas if it were his own cabin. John,standing at the door, he surely might goas far as the door, if he did not stepover the threshold, watched him, andhis eyes grew wider and wider, and hisbreath came quicker and quicker.

For the Skipper was doing strangethings, as he had threatened. Advancingquickly into the middle of the room, hecast around him the same searchingglance with which he had scanned thekitchen. He went to the window, andthrew back the blinds. The sunlight

streamed in, as if it, too, were eager tosee what shrouded treasures were keptsecluded here. Probably the blinds hadnot been thrown back since Gran'therScraper died.

The parlour was scarcely less grim thanthe kitchen, though there was adifference in its grimness. Seven chairsstood against the wall, like sevenpolicemen with their hands behindtheir backs; a table crouched in themiddle, its legs bent as if to spring. Theboy John considered the table amonster, transformed by magic into itspresent shape, and likely to be releasedat any moment, and to leap at theunwary intruder. Its faded cover, with

two ancient ink-blots which answeredfor eyes, fostered this idea, which was adisquieting one. On the wall hung twosilver coffin-plates in a glass case,testifying that Freeborn Scraper, andElmira his wife, had been duly buried,and that their coffins had presented agood appearance at the funeral. But theglory of the room, in the boy John'seyes, was the cabinet of shells whichstood against the opposite wall. He hadonce thought this the chief ornamentof the world; he knew better now, butstill he regarded its treasures with aweand veneration, and looked to see theexpression of delight which shouldoverspread the features of his newfriend at sight of it. What, then, was his

amazement to see his new friend passover the cabinet with a careless glance,as if it were the most ordinary thing inthe world! Evidently, it was not shellsthat he had come to see; and the boygrew more and more mystified.Suddenly the dark eyes lightened; thewhole face flashed into keen attention.What had the Skipper seen Nothing,apparently, but the cupboard in thecorner, the old cupboard where Mr.Scraper kept his medicines. The oldman had sent John to this cupboardonce, when he himself was crippledwith rheumatism, to fetch him a bottleof the favourite remedy of the day.John remembered its inward aspect,with rows of dusty bottles, and on the

upper shelf, rows of still more dustypapers. What could the Skipper see tointerest him in the corner cupboardSomething, certainly! For now he wasopening the cupboard, quietly, as if heknew all about it and was looking forsomething that he knew to be there.

"Ah!" said the Skipper; and he drew along breath, as of relief. "True, thewords! In the corner of the parlour, acupboard of three corners, with bottlesfilled, and over the bottles, papers.Behold the cupboard, the bottles, thepapers! A day of fortunes!" He bentforward, and proceeded to rummage inthe depths of the cupboard; but thiswas too much for John's conscience. "I

beg your pardon, sir!" he said, timidly."But do you think you ought to do that"

The Skipper looked out of thecupboard for an instant, and his eyeswere very bright. "Yes, Colorado," hesaid. "I think I ought to do this! Oh,very much indeed, my friend, I oughtto do this! And here," he stepped back,holding something in his hand, "here, itis done! No more disturbance,Colorado; I thank you for yourcountenance.

"Do we now make a promenade in thegarden, to see your work

"Yet," he added, pausing and againlooking around him, "but yet oncemore I observe. This room," it wasstrange, he did not seem to like theparlour any better than he had liked thekitchen "this room, to live in! a youngperson, figure it, Colorado! gentle, withdesires, with dreams of beauty, and thisonly to behold! For companion anancient onion, I say things that areimproper, my son! I demand pardon!But for a young person, a maiden tolive here, would be sad indeed, do youthink it "

John pondered, in wonder and sometrouble of mind. There was somethingthat he had to say, something very hard;

but it would not be polite just now, andhe must answer a question when hewas asked. "I I thought it was a fineroom!" he said at length, timidly. "Itisn't as bright, somehow, as where Iused to live with my mother, and itseems to stay shut up, even when itisn't; but I guess it's a fine room, sir;and then, if a person didn't like it,there's all out-doors, you know, andthat's never shut up."

"True!" cried the Skipper, with a merrylaugh; "out of doors is never shut up,praise be to Heaven!" He pulled off hiscap, and looked up at the shining sky.They were standing on the door-stepnow, and John noticed that his

companion seemed much less gravethan usual. He laughed, he patted theboy on the shoulder, he hummedsnatches of strange, sweet melodies.Once or twice he broke out intospeech, but it was foreign speech, andJohn knew nothing save that it wassomething cheerful. They walked aboutthe garden, and the Skipper surveyedJohn's work, and pronounced itprodigious. He questioned the childclosely, too, as to how he lived, andwhat he did, and why he stayed withMr. Scraper. But the child could tellhim little. He supposed it was all right;his mother was dead, and there wasnobody else, and Mr. Scraper said hewas his father's uncle, and that the latter

had appointed him guardian over Johnin case of the mother's death. That wasall, he guessed.

"All, my faith!" cried the Skipper, gayly."Enough, too, Colorado! quite enough,in the opinion of me. But I go, my son!Till a little while; you will come to-dayto the 'Nautilus,' yes "

But little John stood still in the path,and looked up in his friend's face. Thetime had come when he must do thehard thing, and it was harder even thanhe had thought it would be. His throatwas very dry, and he tried once or twicebefore the words would come. At last"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I am

only a little boy, and perhaps there issomething I don't understand; but butI don't think you ought to have donethat!"

"Done what, son of mine " asked theSkipper, gazing down at him with thebright, kind eyes that he loved, and thatwould not be kind the next moment,perhaps. "What is it I have done "

"To take the papers!" said John; andnow his voice was steady, and he knewquite well what he must say, if only hisheart would not beat so loud in hisears! "I don't think it was right; butperhaps you know things that make itright for you. But but Mr. Scraper left

me here, to take care of the house, andand I shall have to tell him that youwent into the parlour and took thingsout of the cupboard."

There was silence for a moment,silence, all but the throbbing thatseemed as if it must deafen the child, asit was choking him. He stood lookingat the ground, his face in a flame, hiseyes full of hot, smarting tears. Was ithe who had stolen the papers Surelyanyone would have thought so whosaw his anguish of confusion. And theSkipper did not speak! And this was hisfriend, the first heart-friend the childhad ever had, perhaps the only one thatwould ever come to him, and he was

affronting him, casting him off,accusing him of vileness! Unable tobear the pain any longer, the childlooked up at last, and as he did so, thetears overflowed and ran down hisround cheeks. The dark eyes were askind as ever. They were smiling, oh, sotenderly! John hid his face on his bluesleeve, and sobbed to his heart'scontent; somehow, without a word, thedreadful pain was gone, and the blessedfeeling had returned that this friendknew all about things, and understoodlittle boys, and liked them.

The Skipper did not speak for amoment, only stood and stroked theboy's curly hair with a light, soft touch,

almost as his mother used to stroke it.Then he said, in his deep, grave voice,that was sweeter than music, Johnthought.

"Colorado! my little son, my friend!"That was enough for a few minutes, tillthe sobs were quieted, and only thelittle breast heaved and sank,tremulously, like the breast of afrightened bird. Then the Skipper ledhim to a rustic bench, and sat downbeside him, and took his hand.

"And that hurt you to say, my little son" he said, smiling. "That hurt you,because you thought it would vex thefriend from the Bahamas, the friend

who steals. And yet you like him a little,is it not "

"Oh!" cried John, looking up with allhis heart in his blue eyes; and no otherword was needed.

"See, then!" the Skipper went on, stillholding the boy's hand; "it is that youare right, Colorado, oh, very right, myson! and I, who am old, but oldenough to be twice to you a father, Ithought not of this. Yes, you must tellSir Scraper, if if I do not tell him first."He was silent a moment, thinking; andthen continued, speaking slowly,choosing his words with care: "Is it thatyou think, Colorado, it would be wrong

to wait a little before you tell Sir Scraperif I said, till to-morrow If I ask you towait, and then, if I have not told him,you shall tell him, what do you say ofthat, my son "

John looked helplessly around, his blueeyes growing big and wistful again. "Ifif he should ask me!" he said. "I amsure you know all about it, and that it isall right for you, but if he should askme you see I I should have to answerhim, shouldn't I "

"You would have to answer him!" theSkipper repeated, frowningthoughtfully. "And you could not tellhim that there were flying-fish in the

cabin, eh, Colorado Wait then, thatyour friend thinks. The mind moves attimes slowly, my son, slowly!"

He was silent, and John watched him,breathless.

Presently, "Will you come with me,Colorado " asked the Skipper. "I inviteyou to come, to spend the day on the'Nautilus,' to play with Jack and Jim, topolish the shells, what you please. Idesire not longer to wait here, I desirenot that yet Sir Scraper know of myvisit. Had he been here, otherhappenings might have been; as it isshortly, will you come with me,Colorado "

John shut his eyes tight, and tookpossession of his soul.

"I promised!" he said, "I promised himthat if he would not whip me thismorning I would not stir off the place.He was mad because I went yesterday,and he was going to give me a goodone this morning, and I hadn't got overthe last good one, and so I promisedthat! But if I had known you werecoming," he cried, "I would not havepromised, and I would have taken threegood ones, if I could only go."

The Skipper nodded, and was silentagain. Suddenly he rose to his feet.

"Have you heard of pirates, Colorado "he asked, abruptly.

John nodded, wondering.

"Of Malay pirates " the Skippercontinued, with animation. "They arewild fellows, those! They come, they seea person, they carry him off, to keep attheir fancy, till a ransom is paid, or tillhe grow old and die, or till they kill himthe next day, who knows But not all arebad fellows, and there are some ofthem who are kind to captives, whotake them on board their ships, playwith them, show to them strangethings, shells and fish and corals, all

things. Have you ever played at pirate,Colorado "

"Yes, sometimes," the boy admitted,wondering still more at the brightnessin his friend's look, and his air ofsudden determination.

"I never played Malay, only Portugee; Ithought they weren't so cruel, but Idon't know. I had a ship down by thewharf, and I made a good many piratevoyages round the wharf, andsometimes quite a piece down river,when I could get the time. But then,after a while, I thought it was nicer tobe a rescuing ship, and get folks awayfrom the pirates, you know, so I've

done that lately, and I've rescued asmany as twenty vessels, I should think."

"That was fine!" said the Skipper,nodding sagely. "That was well done,Colorado! But here we come to trouble,do you see for I that speak to you I ama Malay pirate!"

The boy started violently and lookedup, expecting he knew not what suddenand awful change in the face that bentdown over him; but no! it was the samequiet, dark face, only there was a brightgleam in the eyes. A gleam of fun, wasit Surely not of ferocity.

"I come up this river," the Skipper

continued, rapidly, "to see what I find,perhaps gold, perhaps silver, perhapsprisoners of value. I look about, I seethe pleasant village, I see persons veryamiable, but no precious thing exceptone; that one, I have it! I am a Malaypirate, Colorado, and thus I carry offmy prize!" and picking up the child asif he were a feather, and tossing him upto his shoulder, the Skipper strodefrom the garden, and took his waytoward the wharf.

CHAPTER VI.

MR. BILL HEN.

Mr. Bill Hen Pike had come to have agood long gossip. It was some timesince a schooner had come up the river,for the ice-shipping had not yet begun,and he was fairly thirsting for maritimeintelligence. He desired to know thetonnage of the "Nautilus," her age,where she was built, and by whom; heroriginal cost, and what sums had beenexpended in repairs since she had beenin the Skipper's possession; how manytrips she had made, to what ports, andwith what cargoes; the weather that hadbeen encountered on each and everytrip. These things and many more oflike import did the Skipper unfold,sitting at ease on the cabin table, while

Mr. Bill Hen tilted the only chair inrhythmic content. His hat was tilted,too; his broad red face shone withpleasure; the world was a good place tohim, full of information.

At last the questions came to an end; itseemed a pity, but there was reallynothing left to ask, since it appearedthat the Skipper was unmarried andhad no relations. But now the Skipper'sown turn had come, and quietly, withjust enough show of interest to bepolite, he began the return game. "Youhave been at sea a large part of yourlife, Senor Pike "

"Oh, yes! yes! I'm well used to the sea.

That is off and on, you know, off andon. I was mate on a coasting schooner,saw a good deal that way, you know;like the sea first-rate, but my wife, shewon't hear to my going off nowadays,and there's the farm to 'tend to, stockand hay, var'ous things, var'ous things;all about it, my sea-going days are over,yes, yes! Pleasant place, though, pleasantplace, though the strength going out ofmy legs makes it troublesome by times,yes, yes! Been in these parts before, yousaid Oh, no! said you hadn't; beg yourpardon! Pleasant part of the country!good soil, good neighbours."

"Fine country, I should suppose!" saidthe Skipper; "and as you say, sir, the

persons agreeable for knowledge. Youknow the boy whom I hear called John,with the old gentleman who collectsshells "

"Oh! ho!" said Mr. Bill Hen, delightedto find a fresh subject of interest."Deacon Scraper, yes, yes! well named,sir, Deacon Scraper is, well named, yousee! Very close man, pizeon close theydo say. Lived here all his life, DeaconScraper has, and made a fortune.Scraped it, some say, out of folks asweren't so well off as he, but I don'tknow. Keen after shells, the oldgentleman, yes, yes! like liquor to him,I've heard say. Never a man to drink orwhat you might call royster, no way of

the world but just that; but get him offto Boston, or any place where therewere shells to be bought, and he'dcome home fairly drunk with 'em, histrunk busting out and all his moneygone. Seems cur'ous, too, for such anold rip as Dym Scraper, to care for suchthings; but we're made sing'lar, one oneway, and 'nother one t'other. That's so, Ireckon, in your part of the world aswell as hereabouts "

The Skipper bowed his head gravely."The nature of humans is withoutdoubt the same in many lands," he said."The little boy whom I hear calledJohn, he is of near blood to this oldgentleman, yes "

But here Mr. Bill Hen grew redder inthe face, which was a difficult feat, andsmote the cabin table.

"Burning shame it is about thatyoungster!" he declared. "Burningshame, if ever there was one in thismortal world. How some folks can setby and see things going on as they'regoing on, beats me, and le' me say I'mhard to beat. That child, sir, is anorphan; got no father nor mother, letalone grandf'ther or grandm'ther, in theland of the living. His father was somekind of a natural, I guess, or else hehadn't known Deacon Scraper by sightor hearing; but when he dies what does

he do but leave that old old beetle-bugguardeen of that child, case of hismother dyin'. Well, if I'd ha' hadchildren, I might leave 'em to a fox forguardeen, or I might leave 'em to ahorned pout, whichever I was a mindto, but I wouldn't leave 'em to DymScraper, and you can chalk that up onthe door any ways you like." The goodman paused, and puffed and snortedfor some minutes in silence. TheSkipper waited, his dark face quietlyattentive, his eyes very bright.

"Near blood " Mr. Bill Hen broke outagain, with another blow on the table."No, he aint so dretful near blood, ifyou come to that. Near as the child's

got, though, seemin'ly. His father,Johnny's father, was son to FreebornScraper, the Deacon's twin brother.Twins they was, though no more alikethan pork and peas. Them two, andZenoby, the sister, who married offwith a furriner and was never heerd ofagain; but she ain't in the story, thoughsome say she was her father's favourite,and that Dym gave her no peace, afterFreeborn left, till he got rid of her. Allabout it, Freeborn went West young,and spent his days there; livedcomfortable, and left means when hedied. Dym Scraper, he went out to thefuneral, and run it, we heerd,Freeborn's wife being dead and his sonweakly; anyway, he brung back them

two silver coffin-plates that hangs inthe parlour to his house. Next thing weknew good while after, y' understand,but first thing we knew, here to thevillage the son was dead, too; Mahlonhis name was, and had been weakly allhis days. Deacon Scraper went out agin,and kinder scraped round, folksreckoned, 'peared to make of the youngwidder, and meeched up to her, and all.Wal! And here this last year, if shedoesn't up and die! Sing'lar gift folkshas for dying out in them parts; livingso fur from the sea, I've always cal'lated.All about it, that old spider goes outthe third time, and no coffin-plates thistime, but he brings back the boy; andlo, ye! he's made full guardeen over the

child, and has him, body and soul.

"Now I aint a malicious man, no wayof the world, Mister, well, whateveryour name is. But I tell you, that oldweasel is laying for something uglyabout that youngster. Some say he'sapplied to send him to the ReformSchool; good little boy as I'd want tosee. I believe it's so. Don't tell me! He'sgot money, that child has, or land, andDym Scraper means to have it. Thechild's got no one in the world to lookto, and folks about here are so skeeredof Deacon Scraper that they'll set by, Ibelieve, and see a thing like that donebefore their eyes. I tell ye what, sir, I'm achurch-member, and I don't want to

say nothing but what's right andproper; but if there was a prophetanyways handy in these times (and amighty good thing to have round, too),there'd be fire and brimstun called,down on Dym Scraper, and the hullvillage would turn out to see him get it,too!"

"But you, sir!" said the Skipper, whohad his knife out now, and was carvingstrange things on the table, as was hismanner when moved. "You will notpermit such a thing, a person of heartas you have the air to be No, you willnot permit that a thing enormous takeplace at your side "

Mr. Bill Hen's face grew purple; hedrew out a large handkerchief andwiped his forehead, puffing painfully;there was a pause.

"Married man " he said, at length. "No,beg your pardon, unmarried, Iremember. Well, sir, you may knowsomething of life, but there's a sightyou don't know yet. See "

Again there was silence, the Skippergazing darkly at his carven runes, Mr.Bill Hen still puffing and wiping hisbrow.

"Yes, there's a sight you don't knowabout," he said again. "My wife, you

see, she's a good woman, there's nobetter woman round; but she'smasterful, sir, she's masterful, and I'm aman who's always led a quiet life anddesire peace. And there's more behind;though why on the airth I'm telling youall this is more than I can tell!"

The last words came with a peevishoutburst, and he hesitated, as if mindedto say no more; but the Skipper raisedhis head, and the dark eyes sent out acompelling glance. The weaker manfaltered, gave way, and resumed hisspeech.

"She's a masterful woman, I tell ye! Shethinks Deacon Scraper is a dangerous

man, and there aint nobody here butwhat'll agree with her that far. Then hehe's got a mortgage on my farm, sameas he has on others, plenty of others asis better clothed with means than everI've been; and, all about it, my wife aintwilling for us to make an enemy of theold man. That's where the land lays, andyou can see for yourself. Plenty in thevillage is fixed the same way; he's gotpower, that old grape-skin has, powerover better men than he. We don't wantto see that child put upon, but we aintno blood to him, and there aintanybody but feels that he himself aintjust the one to interfere. That's the waymy wife feels, and I, well, there now!you're a stranger, and I may never set

eyes on you again; but I take to you,somehow, and I don't mind telling youthat I feel as mean as dirt whenever Ithink of that lamb in that old fox's den;mean as dirt I feel, and yet I aint got thespunk to the strenth is gone out of mylegs," he added, piteously, "these tenyears back, and I think some of mysperrit went with it. That's where it is! Ihaint got the sperrit to stand up against'em."

There was a long silence, and then theSkipper shut his knife with a click, androse from the table, holding out hishand.

"You are a good man, Senor Pike," he

said. "I think no worse of you, and amglad to make the acquaintance. Withregard to this child, I shall remind you,"here he shook his head with abackward gesture in which there wassomething at once proud and humble."I shall remind you that there arepowers very high, more high than ofprophets; and that God will do theworks as seems Him good. I may havethe honour to wait upon yourdistinguished lady at a future day; Ithink to be some days in this place, forpurposes of selling my cargo, as well totake in wood and water. Never beforein these parts, it is for me of interest toobserve the place and people. You willtake a lemonade that Franci brings

Hola, Franci! This is Senor Pike, Franci,at all times to be admitted to theschooner."

"Pleased to meet you!" said Mr. BillHen.

"Servicio de Usted!" said Franci, whodid not understand English exceptwhen he thought the speaker was likelyto interest him; and they sat down tothe lemonade.

CHAPTER VII.

THE CAPTIVE.

"Franci!" the Skipper called up thecompanion-way, when his visitor hadtaken his departure.

"Senor!" said Franci, putting hisbeautiful head over the rail.

"Bring me here the child, hear thou!"

"Si, Senor," said Franci. He wentforward, and pulling aside a pile ofcanvas that lay carelessly heapedtogether in a corner of the deck,disclosed the boy John, curled up in aball, with one monkey in his arms, andthe other sitting on his shoulder.

"Here, you, Sir Schoolmaster, thePatron ask for you. I give you my handto hellup you up! I like to put a knife inyou!" he added in Spanish, with anadorable smile.

"You'd get one into yourself beforeyou had time!" said Rento, getting upfrom the spot where his length hadbeen coiled, and speaking with a slowdrawl that lent emphasis to the words."You ever lay a hand on that boy, andit's the last you lay on anybody,understand that "

"Oh, yays!" said Franci, gently, as hepulled John out of the tangle of canvasand ropes. "But I am 'most killed all my

life with looking at your ugly face, youold she monkey! A little more killingmake not much difference to me."

Rento advanced toward him withuplifted hand, and the agile Spaniardslipped round the mast anddisappeared.

"What was he saying " asked John,vaguely feeling that something waswrong.

"Nothin', nothin' at all," Rento said,quietly. "He was givin' me some talk,that was all. It's all he has to give,seemin'ly; kind o' fool person he is,Franci; don't ye take no heed what he

says. There, go 'long, youngster! theSkipper's lookin' for ye."

At this moment the Skipper's headappeared over the rail, and John becamequite sure that he was awake. Dreamswere so curious, sometimes, one neverknew what would happen in them; andthis whole matter of piracy had been sostrange and unlooked for that all thewhile he had been hidden under thesail (where he had retreated by theSkipper's orders as soon as Mr. Bill HenPike appeared in the offing), he hadbeen trying to persuade himself that hewas asleep, and that the monkeys weredream-monkeys, very lively ones, andthat by-and-by he would wake up once

more and find himself in bed at Mr.Scraper's.

But now there could be no moredoubt! He could not dream Franci, northe queer things he said; he could notdream Rento, with his kind, ugly faceand drawling speech; least of all couldhe dream the Skipper, who was nowlooking at him with an amused smile.

Certainly, he did not look in the leastlike a pirate! In the first place, Malaypirates did not wear anything, except akind of short petticoat, and somethingthat flew in the air behind them as theyran. For in the geography-book picturesa Malay was always running amuck,

with a creese in his hand, and anexpression of frantic rage on hiscountenance. How could this be a MalayPerhaps he might have been in fun! ButJohn was not much used to fun, and itseemed hardly likely that so grave aperson as the Skipper would play atpirate. On the whole, the little boy wassadly puzzled; and the Skipper's firstwords did not tend to allay his anxiety.

"Ha! my prisoner!" he said. "That youcome here, sir, and sit down by me onthe rail. The evening falls, and we willsit here and observe the fairness of thenight. Remark that I put no chains onyou, Colorado, as in the Malay seas weput them! You can swim, yes "

John nodded. "I swam across the riverlast week," said he. "I was going to " Hemeant to say, "to rescue some peoplefrom pirates," but now this did notseem polite; so he stopped short, butthe Skipper took no notice.

"You swim That is good!" he said. "ButSir Scraper, he cannot swim, I think, myson, so for you there is no rescue, sinceRento has pulled in the plank. Are youcontent, then, to be the captive of the'Nautilus '"

John looked up, still sorely puzzled;perhaps he was rather dull, this littleboy John, about some things, though

he was good at his books. At any rate,there could be no possible doubt ofthe kindness in the Skipper's face;perhaps he was in fun, after all; and,anyhow, where had he ever been sohappy as here since the good motherdied So he answered with right good-will,

"I like to stay here more than anywhereelse in the world. If if I didn't thinkMr. Scraper would be angry andfrightened about me, and not knowwhere I was, I should like to stay onboard all my life."

"That is right!" said the Skipper,heartily. "That is the prisoner that I like

to have. I am not a cruel pirate, assome; I like to make happy my captives.Franci, lemonade, on the after-deckhere!" He spoke in Spanish, and Francireplied in the same language, with afaint voice expressive of acutesuffering.

"I am very sick, Patron. I go to my bedin a desolated condition."

"Come here, and let me look at you!"said the Skipper, imperatively.

"Am I a dog, to fetch drink for thisbeggar brat " was Franci's next remark,in a more vigorous tone. "Was it forthis that I left San Mateo Rento is a pig,

let him do the pig things. I go to mybed."

He made a motion to go, but theSkipper reached out a long arm, andthe next moment the bold youth wasdangling over the side of the vessel,clutching at the air, and crying aloud toall the saints in the calendar.

"Shall I let go " asked the Skipper, inhis quiet tone.

"Ah! no, distinguished Patron!" criedFranci. "Let me not go! This water isabominable. Release me, and I will getthe lemonade. It is my wish that youmay both be drowned in it, but I will

get it, oh, yes, assuredly!"

He was set down, and vanished into thecabin; the Skipper, as if this were themost ordinary occurrence in the world,led the way to the after-rail, and seatedhimself, motioning to John to take aplace beside him.

"What is the matter with him " askedthe boy, looking after Franci.

"I think him slightly a fool," was thereply, as the Skipper puffed leisurely athis cigar. "His parents, worthy people,desired him to be a sailor, but that hecan never be. The best sailor is oneborn for that, and for no other thing;

also, a sailor can be made, though notof so fine quality; but of Franci, no. Ireturn him after this voyage, withcompliments, and he sails no more inthe 'Nautilus.' And you, Colorado Howis it with you You love not at all avessel, I think "

There certainly could be no doubt thistime that the Skipper was making fun;his face was alive with it, and Johncould have laughed outright forpleasure.

"I don't believe you are a Malay, onebit!" said the child. "I'm not sure thatyou are a pirate at all, but I know youaren't a Malay."

"Why that, my son " asked the Skipper,waving the smoke aside, that he mightsee the child's face the clearer. "Why doyou think that I am not dark enoughfor a Malay, is it that "

"No, not that," John admitted. "Butwell, you have no creese, and you arenot wild, nor nor fierce, nor cruel."

"But I have the creese!" the Skipperprotested. "The creese, would you see itIt is in the cabin, behind the door, withother arms of piracy. Still, Colorado, itis of a fact that I was not born inPolynesia, no. As to the fierceness andthe cruelty, we shall see, my son, we

shall see. If I kept you here on the'Nautilus' always, took you with meaway, suffered you no more to live withyour gentle Sir Scraper, that would becruelty, do you think it That would be afierce pirate, and a cruel one, whowould do that "

John raised his head, and looked longand earnestly in his friend's face. "Ofcourse, I know you are only in fun," hesaid, at last, "because dreams don'treally come true; but but that was mydream, you know! I think I've dreamedyou all my life. At least well, I neverknew just what you looked like, or howyou would come; but I always dreamedthat some one would come from the

sea, and that I should hear about theshells, and know what they were sayingwhen they talk; and " he paused; butthe Skipper patted his shoulder gently,in sign that he understood.

"And what else, Juan Colorado " heasked, in what seemed the kindest voicein the world. But the boy John hung hishead, and seemed loth to go on.

"There there was another part to what Idreamed," he said at last. "I guess Iwon't tell that, please, 'cause, of course,you were only in fun."

"And what the harm to tell it," said theSkipper, lightly, "even if it come not

true Dreams are pretty things; my faith,I love to dream mine self. Tell thyfriend, Colorado! tell the dream, all thewholeness of it."

There was no resisting the deep, sweetvoice. The little boy raised his headagain, and looked frankly into the kind,dark eyes.

"I used to dream that I was takenaway!" he said, in a low voice.

"Away Good!" the Skipper repeated.

"Away," the boy murmured, and hisvoice grew soft and dreamy. "Awayfrom the land, and the fields where the

grass dries up so soon, and wintercomes before you are ready to be cold.Some one would come and take me in aship, and I should live always on thewater, and it would rock me like acradle, and I should feel as if I hadalways lived there. And I should see theflying-fish and dolphins, and knowhow the corals grow, and see thingsunder the sea. And nobody would beatme then, and I should not have to splitwood when it makes my back ache.That was the other part of my dream."

The Skipper laid his hand lightly on thechild's head and smoothed back the redcurls. "Who knows " he said, with asmile. "Who knows what may come of

dreams, Colorado Here the one-half iscome true, already at this time. Why notthe other " He turned away as if tochange the subject, and took up a pieceof the white branching coral that lay athis elbow. "When I gather this," he saidin a lighter tone, "it was a day in the lastyear; I remember well that day! A stormhad been, and still the sea was rough alittle, but that was of no matter. Alongthe island shore we were cruising, and Isaw through the water, there very clear,fine trees."

"Trees " repeated the wondering child.

"Of coral, naturally!" said the Skipper."Coral trees, Juan, shining bright,

bright, through the green water.

"'Hola, you! lower anchor!'

"It is done. I put on the diving dress. Itake a rope about my waist, I descend.There a forest I find; very beautifulthing to see. Here we see green trees,and in your north, in fall of year, brightcolours, but there colours of rainbowall the year round. In one place brightyellow, branch and twig of gold purely;the next, purple of a king's garment,colour of roses, colour of peach-blossom in the spring. Past me, as Idescend, float fans of the fan-coral,lilac, spreading a vine-work, trellis, asyour word is. On the one side are cliffs

of mountains, with caves in their sides,and from these caves I see come outmany creatures; the band-fish, a longribbon of silver with rose shiningthrough; the Isabelle fish, it is violetand green and gold, like a queen.Under my feet, see, Colorado! sandwhite like the snow of your winter,fine, shining with many bright sparks.And this is a garden; for all on everyhand flowers are growing. You haveseen a cactus, that some lady keeps verycareful in her window, tending that itdie not Yes! Here is the white groundcovered with these flowers completely,only of more size hugely, crimson, pale,the heart of a rose, the heart of ayoung maiden. Sea-anemones are these,

Colorado, many, many kinds, all veryfine to see. And here, too, on theground are my shells, not as here, whenof their brightness the half is gone forwant of the life and the water, but fullof gleams very glorious, telling ofgreatness in their making. Here abovethe water, my little child, I find personsmany who doubt of a great God whomaketh all things for good, and togrow in the end better; but to havebeen under the sea, that is to know thatit cannot be otherwise; a true sailorlearns many things that are not fullyknown upon the land, where one seesnot so largely His mercy."

He was silent for a moment, and then

went on, the child sitting rapt, gazing athim with eyes which saw all thewonders of which he told.

"All these things I saw through theclear water, as if through purest glass Ilooked. I broke the branches, whichnow you see white and cleaned, butthen all splendid with these colourswhereof I tell you. Many branches Ibroke, putting them in pouches aboutmy waist and shoulders. At once, I see awaving in the water, over my head; Ilook up to see a shark swim slowlyround and round, just having seen me,and making his preparations. I have myknife ready, for often have I met thisgentleman before. I slip behind the

coral tree, and wait; but he is a stupidbeast, the shark, and knows not what todo when I come not out. So up Iquickly climb through the branches,with care not to tangle the rope; he stilllooking for me at the spot where firsthe saw me. I gain the top, and with afew pulls of my good Rento on therope, I am in the boat, and Sir Shark issnapping his teeth alone, very hungry,but not invited to dinner."

"Do you think he was stronger thanyou " asked the little boy. "You're verystrong, aren't you I should think youwere as strong as sharks, and 'most asstrong as whales."

The Skipper laughed. "Sir Shark is tentimes so strong as any man, let him beof the best, my friend; but he has notthe strength of head, you understand;that makes the difference. And you,could you do that, too Could you keepyourself from fear, when the sea-creatures come about you, if youshould ever be a sailor What think you"

The child pondered.

"I think I could!" he said at last.

"I never saw any such things, of course,but I'm not afraid of anything that Iknow about, here on shore. There was a

snake," he went on, lowering his voice,"last summer there was a snake thatlived in a hole by the school-house, andhe was a poison snake, an adder. Oneday he crept out of his hole and cameinto the school-house, and scared themall 'most to death. The teacher faintedaway, and all the children got up into acorner on the table, and the snake hadthe whole floor to himself. But itlooked funny to see them all that wayover a little beast that wasn't more thantwo foot long; so I thought about it,and then I went to the wood-box (wewere burning brushwood then) and gota stick with a little fork at the end, and Icame up quick behind the snake, andclapped that down over his neck, so he

couldn't turn his head round, and thenI took another stick and killed him.That's only a little thing, but I wasn'tafraid at all, and I thought perhaps itwould show whether I would be goodfor anything when there were realthings to be afraid of."

The Skipper nodded in his pleasant,understanding way. "I think so, too,Colorado," he said. "I think so, too!That was like my boy Rento, but notlike Franci. Franci dies every time hesee a snake, and come to life only tofind out if somebody else is killed. See,my son, how beautiful the moon on thewater! Let us look for a few moments,to take the beauty into us, and then I

must send my little friend to his bed,that nothing harmful comes to him."

So they sat hand in hand for awhile,gazing their fill, saying nothing; therewas the same look in the two faces, sowidely different. The little boy, with hisclear brow, his blue eyes limpid as amountain pool, shining with theheavens reflected in them; the darkSpaniard (if he were a Spaniard!) withlines of sadness, shadows of thoughtand of bitter experience, making hisbronze face still darker; what was therealike in these two, who had cometogether from the ends of the earthThe thought was one, in both hearts,and the look of it shone in the eyes of

both as they sat in the moonlight whiteand clear. What was the thought Lookinto the face of your child as it kneelsto pray at close of day! Look into theface of any good and true man whenhe is lifted above the things of to-day,and sees the beauty and the mystery,and hears the eternal voices sounding!

"'Morning, evening, noon and night,Praise God!' sang Theocrite."

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE NIGHT.

The evening had been peaceful, allbeauty and silence; but not so the nightfor the boy John. Something was thematter; he could not sleep. The bunk inthe little cabin was comfortable enoughfor anyone, but to him it was a couchfor an emperor. He speculated on theprobability of George the Third'shaving had anything like so luxurious abed, and rejected the thought as absurd.There were no lumps in the mattress,neither any holes through which sharpfingers of straw came out andscratched him. The red curtains at thesides could be drawn at will, and,drawing them, he found himself in alittle world of his own, warm and stilland red. The shells were outside in the

other world; he could look out at anymoment and see them, and touch them,take them up; his friend had said so.Now, however, it seemed best just to bealive, and to stay still and wonder whatwould become of him. He heard theSkipper come down and go to bed, andsoon the sound of deep, regularbreathing told that he slept, the man ofwonder; but John could not sleep. Andnow other thoughts came thronginginto his mind, thoughts that were notsoft and crimson and luxurious. To goaway, as the Skipper had said, to go toheaven! But one did not go to heaventill the time came. Was it right Was theSkipper a good man

The child debated the question withanguish, lying with wide open eyes inhis crimson-shaded nest. Mr. Scraperwas not very nice, perhaps; but he hadtaken him, John, when his mother died,and fed and clothed him. He had oftenhad enough to eat almost enough andand Mr. Scraper was old, and perhapspretty soon his legs would go to sleep,like old Captain Baker's, and he wouldnot be able to walk at all, and then howwould it be if he were left alonePerhaps people would not come tohelp him, as they had helped thecaptain, because everybody in thevillage loved the captain, and no oneexactly loved Mr. Scraper. So if the onlyperson who belonged to him at all

should go off and leave him, howcould it be expected that the folks whohad their own grandfathers and thingsto take care of would stop and go totake care of this old man And if heshould die there, all alone, with no oneto read to him or bring him things, orfeed him with a spoon, why, howwould it seem to himself, the boy John'sself, when he should hear of it

"I am a murderer!" he said aloud; andstraightway, at the sound of his ownvoice, cowered under the bedclothes,and felt the hangman's hand at hisneck.

What did it mean, when a person could

not sleep

There was a man in an old book thereat the house, and he was wicked, andhe never could sleep, never at all. Thethings he had done came and sat onhim, and they were hot, like coals, andthe heat went through to his heart andburned it. Would it be so with him, ifhe should go away in the "Nautilus,"and forget or try to forget the old manwho had nobody to love him Not thatMr. Scraper wanted to be loved yet, atall; but but he might, some time, whenhis legs had gone to sleep, and then

Sometimes, when a person could notsleep, it meant that he was going to die.

Suppose one were to die now, and goto heaven, and they said to one, "Howwas Mr. Scraper when you came away "and one had to say, "I ran away and lefthim this evening, and I don't knowhow he is, or whether he is alive ordead for sometimes old people die justlike that, dropping down in their chairswhat would they say to one Perhaps theold man had dropped down now, thisvery night, from anger at his being awaywhen he should have done the chores".He saw Mr. Scraper sitting in his arm-chair, cold and dead, with the ratsrunning over the floor at his feet,because he, John, had not set the trap.A scream rose to his lips, but he chokedit back; and sitting up in desperation,

drew aside the red curtains and lookedout.

The cabin lay dim and quiet beforehim. A lantern hung in the middle,turned low, and by its light he could seethe shelves, with their shining rows ofshells, and the glass counter with thesea-jewelry. Directly opposite him, onlythe narrow space of the cabin between,lay the Skipper in his bunk, sleepingpeacefully. The wild fear died away inthe child's heart as he saw the calmnessand repose of the stalwart figure. Onearm was thrown out; the strong,shapely hand lay with the palm opentoward him, and there was infinitecheer and hospitality in the attitude. In

the dim light the Skipper's featureslooked less firm and more kind; yetthey were always kind. It was notpossible that this was a bad man, astealer of children, a pilferer of oldmen's cupboards.

If one could think that he had beenplaying all the time, making believe, justas a person did one's self; but John hadnever known any grown people whocould make believe; they had eitherforgotten, or else they were ashamed ofthe knowledge. Once, it was true, hehad persuaded Mr. Bill Hen Pike to bePlymouth Rock, when he wanted toland in the "Mayflower;" but just as thelanding was about to be effected, Mrs.

Pike had called wrathfully from thehouse, and the rock sprang up andshambled off without even a word ofapology or excuse. So grown peopledid not understand these things,probably; and yet, yet if it had beenplay, what glorious times one couldhave, with a real creese, and a realschooner, and everything delightful inthe world!

How could he be bad and look likethat The child bent forward andstrained his eyes on the sleeping face.So quiet, so strong, so gentle! He triedputting other faces beside it, for he sawfaces well, this boy, and rememberedwhat he had seen. He tried Mr.

Scraper's face, with the ugly blink to thered eyes, and the two wrinkles betweenthe eyes, and the little nest of spitefulones that came about his mouth whenhe was going to be angry; even when heslept the old gentleman his hands wereclenched tight how different from thatopen palm, with its silent welcome! andhis lips pursed up tight. No! no! thatwas not a pleasant picture! Well, therewas Lena! she was pleasant to look at,surely! Her hair was like silver, and hereyes blue and soft, though they couldbe sharp, too. But, somehow, when herface was brought here beside theSkipper's, it looked foolish and empty,and her pretty smile had nothing to sayexcept to bid one look and see how

pretty she was, and how becoming bluewas to her; and and, altogether, shewould not do at all.

Mr. Bill Hen, then, who was alwayskind to him, and quite often, when.Mrs. Pike was not near, would give hima checkerberry lozenge. Mr. Bill Hen'sface was good-natured, to be sure, butoh, how coarse and red and stupid itwas beside the fine dark sleeping mask!Why did people look so different, andmore when they were asleep than anyother time Did one's soul come out andkind of play about, and light up theperson's face; and if so, was it notevident that the Skipper was a goodman and that perhaps things were really

different in his country, and they hadother kinds of Ten Commandments,and no, but right was right, and it didn'tmake any difference about countries inthat sort of thing. You knew thatyourself, because you felt it in yourstomach when you did bad things;perhaps when one grew older, one'sstomach did not feel so quickly. And,anyhow, if that was true about the soul,how do you suppose a person's ownsoul would make his face look if hewas running away from the things heought to do, and going to play withmonkeys and see the wonders of theworld The boy wondered what he waslooking like at the present moment, andsummoned up the image of a frightful

picture of a devil in another of thoseold books into which he was foreverpeeping at odd times. Did they misshim now, the old books in the garret,because he had not come up to wishthem good-night and take a look atsome of the best pictures before hewent to bed Was he likely to turn into adevil when he died, do you suppose

How still it was, and how queer his eyesfelt! But he could not lie down, forthen he would be alone again, and thethings would come and sit on him; itwas good to sit up and look at theSkipper, and wonder and wonder

A gleam, faint and red, shot from a

shell in the farther corner, a splendidcreature, scarlet and pale green, withhorns that gave it a singularly knowinglook. He almost thought it nodded tohim; and hark! was that a tiny voicespeaking, calling him by name

"Come away, little boy!" said the voice."Come away to the south, where thewater is blue always, and storms comerarely, rarely! There, under the water, mybrothers and sisters wait to see you, andwith them their friends, the lovely ones,of whom you have dreamed all yourlife. There, on beds of sea-moss, theylie, and the rainbow is dull beside them.Flowers are there, and stars, and bellsthat wave softly without sound. For

one fair thing that the man, our master,told you of, we have a thousand toshow you. What does he know, a man,whose eyes are already half-shut Butyou are a child, and for you all thingsshall be opened under the ocean, andyou shall see the treasures of it, and thewonders; and you shall grow wise, wise,so that men shall look up to you, andshall say, 'Where did he gain hisknowledge ' And your friend shall bewith you, oh yes, for he knows the way,if he cannot see all the things that willmeet your eyes! And you and hetogether shall sail shall sail, throughwaters green as chrysoprase; and all thesea-creatures shall learn to know youand love you. You shall learn where the

sea-otter makes his nest, in the leavesof the giant sea-weed, where theystretch along the water, full sixty feetlong, as the Skipper told you. The'Nautilus' will be there, too: not aclumsy wooden mountain, like this inwhich we lie prisoned, but the creatureitself, the fairy thing of pearl and silver!Look! here lies his shell, and you find itlovely; but like us, it is dim and deadfor want of the life within it.

"Come away, and let us be sailing,sailing over seas of gold! And whenyou are weary of the top of the waves,down you shall sink with us throughthe clear green water, and the night willfall like a soft dream, and the moon-

fish, with its disk of silver, shall gleambeside you to light the dimness that yetis never dark; and you shall go down,down, down "

And about this time it must have beenthat the little boy went down, for whenthe morning broke, the Skipper foundhim, fast asleep, and smiling as he slept.

CHAPTER IX.

FAMILY MATTERS.

"Well," said Mr. Bill Hen, "I only wantto put it to you, you understand.

Intelligent man like you, no need forme to do more than put it to you.There's the child, and there's the oldman, and they 'pear to have gotseparated. I don't want to beunderstood as implying anything, notanything in the living world; but there'swhere it is, you see. And me being ajustice of the peace, and sworn, youobserve, to well, I'm sure you will seefor yourself the position I'm placed in.Point is, you seemed consid'ableinterested in the child, as one may say.Nothing strange in that, nice little boy!would interest an Injin chief, if he hadany human feelin' in him. But bein' ajustice of the peace, you see, well, Mr.Scraper has sent me to make inquiries,

and no offence in the world, I trust noinsult, you understand, if I jest well, allabout it do you know where in thunderthe child is "

Mr. Bill Hen, standing on the bank,delivered himself of these remarkswith infinite confusion, perspiringfreely, and wiping his face with a duster,which he had brought by mistakeinstead of a handkerchief. He lookedpiteously at the Skipper, who stoodleaning over the side, cheerfullyinscrutable, clad in spotless white, andsmoking a long cigar.

"The child " the Skipper repeated,thoughtfully. "You allude to the boy

called John, Senor Pike; yes, I had thatsuppose. Now, sir, the day before this,you tell me that this child is not wellplaced by that old gentleman Scraper;that the old man is cruel, is base, is askin-the-flint, shortly. You tell me this,and I make reply to you that there arepowers more high than this old person,who have of that child charge. How, ifthose powers had delivered to me thechild how then, I ask you, Senor Pike "

Mr. Bill Hen wiped his brow again andgasped feebly. "'Tis as I thought!" hesaid. "You've got the child aboard."

The Skipper nodded, and blew ringsfrom his cigar. "I have the child," he

repeated, "aboard. What will you in thiscase do, Senor I propose to take himwith me away, to make of him a sailor,to care for him as my son. You thinkwell of this; you have been kind to thechild always, as he tell me You are gladto have him remove from the slavery ofthis old fish, yes " He smiled, and benthis dark eyes on his unhappy visitor.

Mr. Bill Hen writhed upon the hook."There there's truth in what you say,"he admitted, at length, after seekingcounsel in vain from his red bandanna."There's truth in what you say, I aintdenyin' that. But what I look at, yousee, is my duty. You may have youridees of duty, and I may have mine; and

I'm a justice of the peace, and I don'tsee anything for it but to ask you togive up that child to his lawfulguardeen, as has sent me for him."

A pause ensued, during which Francisauntered to the side with easy grace."Shall I put a knife into him, Patron "he asked, indicating Mr. Bill Hen with acareless nod. "How well he would stick,eh The fatness of his person! It is butto say the word, Patron."

Mr. Bill Hen recoiled with a look ofhorror, and prepared for instant flight;but the Skipper's gesture reassured him."Franci, look if there is a whale on thelarboard bow!" said the latter.

"Perfectly, Patron!" replied Franci,withdrawing with his most courtly bow."When I say that no one will be killedat all in this cursed place, and I shallbreak my heart! but as you will."

Again there was a pause, while Mr. BillHen wondered if this were a floatinglunatic asylum or a nest of pirates, thathad come so easily up their quiet riverand turned the world topsy-turvy. Atlength "Your force, Senor Pike," theSkipper said, "I perceive it not, for totake away this child. Have you themilizia what you call soldiers, policehave you them summoned andconcealed behind the rocks, as in the

theatres of Havana I see no one butyour one self. Surely you have nothought to take the child of your ownforce from me "

Mr. Bill Hen gasped again. "Lookhere!" he broke out at last. "What kindof man are you, anyway you aint nokind that we're used to in these parts,so now I tell you! When a man hearswhat is law in this part of the world, hegives in, as is right and proper, to thatlaw and that and and in short to themsentiments. Are you going to stand outagainst the law, and keep that child andwho give you a right to do for thatchild I suppose I can ask that question,if you are a grandee, or whatever you

are. Who give you a right, I ask "

"Who shall say " replied the Skipper."Perhaps " He said no more, but raisedhis hand with a gesture that was solemnenough; and Mr. Bill Hen Pike decidedthat he was beyond doubt a madman.But now the Skipper dropped his toneand attitude of smiling ease, and,throwing away his cigar, stood upright."Enough, Senor!" he said. "You are agood man, but you have not thecourage. Now, you shall see Colorado."He turned toward the cabin and called:"Colorado, my son, come to me!" Then,after a pause, "He sleeps yet. Rento,bring to me the child!" Rento, who hadbeen hovering near, lending a careful

ear to all that was said, now vanished,and reappeared, bearing the boy John inhis arms. The child was but newlyawake, and was still rubbing his eyesand looking about him inbewilderment.

"Colorado, the Senor Pike, already wellknown to you!" said the Skipper, with agraceful wave of the hand. "Yourguardian, the old gentleman Scraper,desires of our company at breakfast.How then, son of mine Shall we go, orshall I keep you here, and bid SirScraper find his way to the devil, whichwill be for him little difficult " Hesmiled on the boy, and took his handwith a caressing gesture.

Little John heaved a great sigh, and thecares of the world floated from himlike a summer cloud. "Oh, I knew it!"he cried, smiling joyously up into hisfriend's face. "I knew it all the time, oralmost all! You never meant anythingbut fun, did you and we will go back,won't we And we shall feel all rightinside, and things will not sit I I meannothing will feel bad any more. I I can'tsay all I mean," he added, rather lamely,"because I had thoughts in the night;but we will go now, you and I, you andI!"

* * * * *

As they approached the gate, Johnstopped a moment, and looked up athis companion. "Would you mindholding my hand " he asked. "I am allright in my mind, but I think I amrather queer in my legs; I think I shouldfeel better if I held the hand of ofsomebody who wasn't little, or orweak."

Oh, the strong, cordial pressure of thebig, brown hand! how it sent warmthand cheer and courage through the littlequivering frame! John was all right inhis mind, as he said, but his body feltalready the stinging blows of the cane,his ears rang already with the burningwords of rage and spite.

"But it is the inside that matters!" saidJohn, aloud; and he shut his eyes andwent into the house.

"Good-morning, gentleman," theSkipper began, always at his courteousease.

"I have to ask your forgiveness, that Icarry off yesterday our young friendhere. You were not at house, I desiredgreatly of his company; I have the waysof the sea, waiting not too long for thethings I like; briefly, I take him away.That I bear the blame of this is mydesire. And now, shall we pleasantlyconverse, ha "

He seated himself, drew the boybetween his knees, and looked Mr.Scraper squarely in the eyes. Now, Mr.Scraper did not like to be looked at inthis manner; he shifted on his chair,and his mouth, which had been openedto pour out a flood of angry speech,closed with a spiteful snap, and thenopened, and then closed again.

The Skipper observed these fish-likesnappings with grave attention. Atlength,

"Who are you, I should like to know "the old man cried in an angry twitter.

"Why in why do you come meddlinghere, and carrying off boys from theirlawful guardeens, and talking folderol,and raising Ned generally I've seenskippers before, but I never heered ofno such actions as these, never in mydays! Why, no one here so much asknows your name; and here you seemto own the hull village, all of a sudden.You, John," he added, with a savagesnarl, "you go about your business, andI'll see to you afterwards. I reckon youwon't go out again without leave forone while!"

The child started obediently, but thestrong hand held him fast.

"Quiet, Colorado," said the Skipper."Quiet, my son! Time enough for thework, plenty time! I desire you herenow, see you." Then he turned oncemore to the old man.

"You have, I already say, a beautifulname, Sir Scraper," he said withcheerful interest. "Endymion! a finename, truly of poetry, of moonlightand beauty; you have had great joy ofthat name, I cannot doubt "

"What's my name to you, I should liketo know " retorted Mr. Scraper, withacrimony. "This aint the first timeyou've took up my name, and I'll thankyou to leave it alone! You let go that

boy, or I'll let you know more 'n youknew before."

"Perfectly!" said the Skipper. "Attendbut a moment, dear sir. Let us pursuefor a moment thoughts of poetry! Sucha name as Endymion proves a poeticfancy in the giver of it; at a guess, thiswas your lady mother, now probablywith the saints, and if others sofortunate as to belong to your family,surely this excellent lady would havegiven to them, also, names of soul, ofpoetry! If there was a sister, forexample, would she be named SusanNo! Jane Never! Find me then a name!Come! at a venture. Zenobia Aha! whatsay you "

He leaned forward, and his glance waslike the flash of a sword. The childlooked in wonder from one to theother; for the old man had sunk back inhis chair, and his jaw had fallen open inan ugly way, and altogether he was a sadobject to look at.

"What what d'ye mean " he gasped,after a moment. But the Skipper wenton, speaking lightly and cheerfully, as iftalking of the weather.

"What pleasure to bring before themind a picture of a family so charming!Of you, dear sir, in your graciouschildhood, how endearing the image!

how tenderly guarded, how fondlycherished here by your side the littlesister Ah! the smiling picture, makingglad the heart! This sister, Zenobia, letus say, grows up, after what happychildhood with such a brother needsfor me not to say. They are three, thesechildren, how must they love eachother! But one brother goes early awayfrom the home! In time comes forZenobia, as to young maidens willcome, a suitor, a foreigner, shall we saya man, like myself, of the sea May it nothave been possible, dear sir "

"A roving nobody!" the old manmuttered, striving to pull himselftogether. "A rascally" but here he

stopped abruptly, for a stern hand waslaid on his arm.

"I am speaking at this present, sir!" saidthe Skipper. "Of this man I do not askyou the character. I tell my story, if youplease, in my own way.

"The mother, by this time, is dead. Thefather, unwilling to part with hisdaughter, alas! the parental heart, howmust it be torn As yours, the tenderone, last night, on missing this belovedchild, Sir Scraper. The father, I say,opposes the marriage; at length only,and after many tears, much sorrow,some anger, consents; the daughter,sister, Zenobia, goes with her husband

away, promising quickly to return, totake her old father to her home in thesouthern islands. Ah, the interestingtale, is it not Observe, Colorado, myson, how I am able to move this, yourdear guardian. The pleasant thing, tomove the mind of age, so oftenindifferent.

"Zenobia goes away, and the son, thegood son, the one faithful and devoted,who will not marry, so great his lovefor his parent, is left with that parentalone. How happy can we fancy thatparent, is it not How gay for him thedays, how sweet for him the nights,lighted with love, and smoothed hispillow by loving hands, ah, the pleasant

picture! But how, my friend, you feelyourself not well Colorado, a glass ofwater for your guardian."

The old man motioned the child back,his little eyes gleaming with rage andfear.

"You you come a-nigh me, you brat,and I'll wring your neck!" he gasped."Well, Mister, have you finished youryour story, as you call it Why do I wantto listen to your pack of lies, I shouldlike to know I wonder I've had patienceto let you go on so long."

"Why do you want to listen " theSkipper repeated. "My faith, do I know

But the appearance of interest in yourface so venerable, it touch me to theheart. Shall I go and tell the rest of mystory to him there, that other, the justiceof the peace But no, it would breakyour heart to hear not the end. That weproceed then, though not so cheerfulthe ending of my story. Zenobia, in hersouthern home, happy, with her child ather knee, feels still in her heart thedesire to see once more her father, tobring him to her, here in the warmsouth to end his days of age. Shewrites, but no answer comes; again shewrites, and again, grief in her soul, tothink that anger is between her and oneso dear. At last, after a long time, a letterfrom her brother, the stay-at-home, the

faithful one; their father is dead; isdead, without speaking of her; theproperty is to him left, the faithful son.It is finished, it is concluded, the earthis shut down over the old man, and nomore is to say.

"With what tender, what loving wordsthis cruel news tells itself, needs not torepeat to a person so of feeling asyourself, Sir Scraper. Zenobia, sadwoman, believes what she is told; bowsher head, gathers to her closer herhusband and her son, and waits thegood time when God shall make to hergood old father the clear knowledgethat she has always loved him. Ah, yes,my faith!

"Now, in a year, two years, I know not,what arrives A letter, old and worn; aletter soiled, discoloured, of carryinglong in a sailor's pocket, but still easilyto be read. This letter shall we guess, SirScraper Well, then, from her father! Theold man in secret, in fear, lying on hisbed of death, makes come by stealth aneighbour, kindly disposed to him;makes write by his hand this letter;makes draw up besides, it may be, otherpapers, what do we know

"Ah! but remain quiet, dear sir. Grievedthat I do not interest you, I must stillpray of your presence, that you do notyet withdraw it. Ancient fish-skin, do I

tie thee in thy chair

"So! that is well, and you will remainquiet, Senor, with a thousand pardons!

"This letter, then, it is one to wring theheart. He has longed for his daughter,this poor old man; in two graspinghands held as in a vise, he turns to herwho was always kind, he prays her toreturn, to let him come to her, what shewill. Failing this, and knowing that onearth the time is short for him toremain, he bids her not grieve, but sendto her home a messenger of trust, andlet him look for a certain paper, in acertain place. Finally, he prays for herthe blessing of God, this good old

man, and bids her farewell, if he maynever see her more. Truly, a letter overwhich a pirate, even a Malay pirate,Colorado of my heart, might shedtears."

The Skipper's voice was still quiet, butits deep tones were stern withsuppressed feeling; with menace, was itThe child, bewildered, looked from oneto the other of his two companions.The Spaniard's eyes burned red in theirdepths, his glance seemed to piercemarrow and sinew; he sat leaninglightly forward in his chair, alert,possessing himself, ready for anysudden movement on the part of hisadversary; for the old man must be his

adversary; something deadly must liebetween these two. Mr. Scraper lay backin his chair like one half dead, yet therage and spite and hatred, the baffledwonder, the incredulity struggling withwhat was being forced upon him, madelively play in his sunken face. His leanhands clutched the arms of the chair asif they would rend the wood; his frameshook with a palsy. Little Johnwondered what could ail his guardian;yet his own heart was stirred to itsdepths by what he had heard.

"The son was bad!" he cried. "He was abad man! Things must have sat uponhis breast all night, and I am sure hecould not sleep at all. Are you sorry for

a person who is as bad as that do youthink any one tried to help him to bebetter "

But the Skipper raised his finger, andpointed to the evil face of the old man.

"Does that man look as if he slept, myson " he asked.

"Listen always, and you shall hear thelast of the story."

"It's a lie!" Mr. Scraper screamed at last,recovering the power of speech.

"It's a lie that you've cooked up fromwhat you have heard from the

neighbours. May their tongues rot out!And if it were true as the sun, what is itto you She's dead, I tell you! She's beendead these twenty years! I had thepapers telling of her death; I've got 'emnow, you fool."

"Quiet then, my uncle!" said theSkipper, bending forward, and layinghis hand on the old man's knee.

"She is dead, she died in these arms. Iam her son, do you see "

But if Mr. Scraper saw, it was only for amoment, for he gave a scream, and felltogether sideways in his chair, struckwith a fit.

CHAPTER X.

IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION.

"And now, Colorado, son of my heart,"the Skipper said, "you understand whyI was a thief that yesterday, and why Icould not permit you at that instant totell of my thieving "

They had put the old man to bed, andMr. Bill Hen had gone for the doctor.In fact, when John ran out of the door,he had found Mr. Bill Hen leaning upagainst it, as speechless, with

amazement and confusion, as Mr.Scraper himself! The good man, whollyunable to restrain his curiosity, hadfollowed the Skipper and the boy,unbeknown to them, and postinghimself in a convenient angle of theporch, had heard every word of theconversation. The Skipper, perceivingthe facts, managed to rouse him with afew sharp words, and sent him off inhot haste to the village; and had thenproceeded to make the old gentlemancomfortable, and to set thingsshipshape, so far as might be.

"Do you think he will die " asked John,peeping over the bed at the sunkenfeatures of the old man.

"I do not!" was the reply.

"I think this my revered uncle has yetmany years to live and repent, if so hebe minded. He is a very bad old man,Colorado, this my revered uncle! Ah,thou ancient fish, thou art finallylanded!"

"Are you sorry for a person when he isso bad as that " asked the boy, as he hadasked once before.

"Do you think a person could makehim better, if he tried very hard indeed"

"I have no knowledge!" said theSkipper, rather shortly. "I am a humanperson altogether, my son! and Iconcern myself not greatly with theimprovement of this my revered uncle.Behold it, the will, made by mygrandfather, the father of my poormother, whose soul, with his, rest ineternal glory! By this, my mother, and Iafter her, inherit this house, this garden,these possessions such as they are. If Idesire, son of mine, I may come hereto-day to live, sell the 'Nautilus,' or cuther cable and let her drift down theriver, with Rento and Franci, and all theshells; and I may live here in my house,to what do you say cultivate my lands,eat grass and give it to the cattle What

think you, Colorado Is that a life Shall Ilead it, as is my right Have I not hadenough, think you, of roving over thesea, with no place where I may rest,save the heaving ocean, that rests neverbeneath the foot Shall we turn out thisold wicked man, who did to death hisold father, who made my mother gosad of heart to her grave, who hasdone of all his life no kind act to anyperson shall we turn him out, and livein peace here, you and I "

The child came near to him, and laidhis hand on his friend's knee, andlooked up in his face with troubledeyes.

"I am not very bright," he said, "andyou think so many things so quicklythat I do not know what you mean agood deal of the time. But but CousinScraper took me when my people died,and he has taken care of me ever since,and and he has no one else to take careof him now."

"Yes, the fine care he has taken of you!"said the Skipper. "You are of skin andbone, my child, and there are marks onyour skin of blows, I saw themyesterday: cruel blows, given from a badheart. You have worked for him, thisancient fish-skin, how long Of wages,how much has he paid you Tell methese things, and I will tell you how

much it is your duty to stay by him."

But John shook his head, and theshadows deepened in his blue eyes.

"You cannot tell a person those things,"he said; "a person has to tell himselfthose things. But thank you all thesame," he added, fervently; "and I loveyou always more and more, every dayand every minute, and I always shall."

"Now the question is," said the Skipper,shrugging his shoulders in mockdespair, "must I turn pirate in truth, togain possession of a child whom Icould hold in my pocket, and whowould give all his coloured hair from

his head to go with me Go away, sonof mine, that I reflect on these things,for you try my soul!"

John withdrew, very sad, andwondering how it was that right andwrong could ever get mixed. Hethought of looking in some of the oldbooks to see, but, somehow, books didnot appeal to him just now. He went upto his own little room, and took downthe china poodle, and had a long talkwith him; that was very consoling, andhe felt better after it; it was wonderfulhow it cleared the mind to talk a thingover with an old friend. The poodlesaid little, but his eyes were full ofsympathy, and that was the main thing.

By-and-by, as the child sat by his littlewindow, polishing the pearl-shell on hissleeve, and thinking over the strangeevents of the last few days, there cameto him from below the sound ofvoices. The doctor was there, evidently;perhaps Mr. Bill Hen, too; and little ashe felt inclined to merriment, John fellinto a helpless laughter, as he recalledthe look of that worthy man when hewas discovered flattened against thedoor. How much older one grewsometimes in a short time! Mr. Bill Henused to look so old, so wise, and nowhe seemed no more than another boy,and perhaps rather a foolish boy. Butseeing the Skipper made a greatdifference in a person's life.

Presently the door at the foot of thestairs opened, and John heard his namecalled; he hastened down, and foundMr. Scraper sitting up in bed, lookingpale and savage, but in full possessionof his faculties. The doctor was there, aburly, kind-eyed man, and Mr. Bill Henwas there, and the Skipper; and whenlittle John entered, they all looked athim, and no one said anything for amoment.

At length the doctor broke the silence.

"I understand, sir," he said, addressingthe Skipper, "that you have a paper, awill or the like, substantiating your

claims "

"I have!" the Skipper replied. "Theletter received by my mother, shortlybefore her death, was dictated by mygrandfather, and told that, hearing formany years nothing from his son, thischild's grandfather, he had made a willin her favour. This, being timorous, hehad not dared to show to anyone,neither to send her a copy, but he badeher send a messenger to make search ina certain cupboard of this house, on acertain shelf, where would be foundthis paper. My mother dying,commended to me this search. I at thattime was a youth on adventures bent,with already plans for eastern voyages.

Keeping always the letter in my pouch,and in my heart the desire of mymother, I came, nevertheless, not to thispart of the world; years come and go,Senor, swiftly with men of the sea, andthese shores seemed to me less ofattraction than Borneo and other placeswhere were easily to be found mywares. Briefly, I came not; till this year, acommission from a collector of someextent brought the 'Nautilus' to NewYork. And then, say I, how then if I goon, see this my inheritance, discover ifit may profit me somewhat I come, Idiscover my revered uncle, unknown tohim. Is the discovery such that I desireto fall on his respected bosom, crying,'My uncle, soul of my family, behold

your son!' I ask you, Senors both! But Ifind this, my revered uncle, to be acollector of shells: thus he is in oneway already dear to my heart. Again, Ifind here at the moment of my arrival achild, who is in effect of my ownblood, who is to me a son from themoment of our first speech. Is it so,Colorado Speak, my child!"

John could not speak, but he noddedlike a little mandarin, and the red curlsfell into his eyes and hid the tears, sothat no one but the Skipper saw them.

"How then " the Skipper resumed, aftera moment's pause. "My soul not callingme to reveal myself to this so-dear

relative, what do I I come to this house,without special plan, to spy out theland, do we say I find my uncle forthof the house; I find my child travailingin the garden. Good! The time appearsto me accepted. I enter, I search, I findthe cupboard, I find the paper. Briefly,Senors both, behold me possessor ofthis house, this garden, this domainroyal."

He handed a paper to the doctor, whoread it carefully, and nodded. Mr.Scraper made an attempt to clutch it inpassing, but grasped the air only.

"What then, in finality, do I say " theSkipper went on. "Do I desire to stay in

this place Wishing not to grieve theSenor Pike, whom greatly I esteem, Iconsider it unfit for the human being.Of property, I have little desire; I havefor my wants enough, I have my'Nautilus,' I have my boys, to what endshould I retain these cold spots ofearth, never before seen by me To whatpurpose, I ask it of you, SenorsTherefore, in finality, I say to myrevered uncle this: Give to me the child,give to me the boy, that I take away andmake a sailor, for which he was born;and I of my part surrender house andgarden, even any money bags whichmay be, what know I, perhaps at thismoment in the bed of my revered uncleconcealed "

The old man gave a convulsive shudderat this, and shrieked faintly; all started,but the Skipper laughed.

"You see, Senor Pike, and SenorDoctor, greatly respected! Who shallknow how great sums this ancient fishhas hidden under him Let him keepthem, these sums. I take the child, and Igo my way. Is it finished, uncle of myheart Is it finished, venerable iniquityCan you part with the child, beloved,even as your old father was beloved,and like him caressed and tenderlyentreated Answer, thou!"

But before Mr. Scraper could speak,

little John stepped forward, very pale,but clear in his mind.

"If you please," he said, "I should liketo speak. If you please, he (indicatingthe Skipper,) is so kind, and and heknows what I he knows things I havethought about, but he does not knowall. Cousin Scraper, you may be sicknow, perhaps a long time, and perhapsyou have gone upon your bed to die,like that king in the Bible who had figsput on; only he got well.

"And I want to stay and take care ofyou, and and I will do as well as I knowhow, and I think I can work more thanI used to, because I know more, these

last days, than I did, and and I thinkthat is all. But if you don't mind if youwould try to like me a little, I think weshould get on better; and if dried figswould do, we might try those, youknow."

Here he turned to the doctor, with aface of such clear brightness that thegood man choked, and coughed, andfinally went and looked out of thewindow, wondering whether he waslaughing or crying.

Then John came forward, and held outboth hands to the old man with anappealing gesture.

"Will you try to like me a little " he said;and for the first time his voice quivered.

"For now my only friend is going away,and I am sending him, and I shall neversee him again."

Mr. Endymion Scraper was a man offew ideas; and only one was in his mindat this moment. Gathering himself upin the bed, he pushed the boy awayfrom him with all his feeble strength.

"Go 'way!" he said. "Go 'way, I tell ye.If that man there will take ye, he'swelcome to ye, I guess. If he's foolenough to take ye in exchange forproperty, saying the property was his,

which I aint fool enough to do withouta lawyer he's welcome to ye. I say, he'swelcome. I don't want no brats roundhere. I took ye out of charity, and I'vehad enough of ye. Go 'long, I say, withthat wuthless feller, if he is my sister'sson. I want to be rid of the hull lot andpassel of ye!"

His voice rose to a scream, and theveins on his narrow forehead stood outlike cords. The doctor motioned to theSpaniard; and the latter, withoutanother word, took the child up in hisarms as he had done once before,swung him over his shoulder, and leftthe room.

CHAPTER XI.

SAILING.

"Rento!"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Franci!"

"Senor!"

"Jack and Jim!"

The monkeys for answer leaped ontheir master's shoulder, and chattered,

and peered round into his face.

"The company of this schooner,attention! Behold Colorado, whocomes to be my son! He sails with us,he receives kindness from you all, he isin his home. Instruction you will givehim in ways of the sea, and he becomesin all things your brother. Am Iunderstood "

The different members of the crewreceived this intelligence each in hisown way. Rento advanced, and shakingJohn cordially by the hand, assured himwith honest warmth that he was properglad to see him, and that he hoped theyshould be good friends.

Franci smiled like an angel, and themoment the Skipper's back was turned,made frightful grimaces at the boy, andthreatened his life. But John was toohappy to be afraid of Franci. Goingboldly up to him, he asked,

"Why don't you like me, and why doyou want to kill me I never did you anyharm, and I should like to be friends,please."

The Spaniard looked at him sidelongout of his soft, sleepy eyes.

"Have you understanding " he askedpresently. "Have you intelligence to

accept the idea of a person of poetry,of soul "

"I think so!" said John, with someconfidence. "I could try, anyhow."

"Look, then!" exclaimed Franci,throwing his arms abroad with adramatic gesture.

"I am not of nature murderous. Adove, a lamb at sport in the meadow,such is the heart of Franci. But beholdme desolated on this infernal schooner.Torn by my parents from my home,from warm places of my delight, fromvarious maidens, all enamoured of myperson, I am sent to be a sailor. A life

of horror, believe me who say it to you!Wetness, cold and work; work, cold andwetness! Behold the sea! may it beaccursed, and dry up at the earliestmoment! I come here, on this sodisastrous voyage. Have I poetry, thinkyou, on board this vessel Is the pig-faced armadillo yonder a companionfor me, for Franci Is my beauty, thegentleness and grace of my soulappreciated here even the Patron, aperson in some ways of understanding,has for me only the treatment of achild, of a servant. Crushed to theground by these afflictions, how do Irevenge myself How do I makepossible the passage of time in thiswooden prison I make for myself the

action, I make for myself the theatre.Born for the grace of life, deprived ofit, let me have the horrors! In effect, Iwould not hurt the safety of a flea; inappearance, I desire blood, blood,blood!"

He shrieked the last words aloud, andleaped upon the boy, his eyes glaringlike a madman's; but John was on hisown ground now; his eyes shone withappreciation.

"That's splendid!" he cried. "Blood! Oh,I wish I could do it like that! I say, wecan play all kind of things, can't weWe'll be pirates only good pirates, andwe'll scour the seas, and save all the

shipwrecked people, won't we And youshall be the captain (or you might call itadmiral, if you liked the sound better, Ioften do), and I will be the mate, or theprisoners, or the drowning folks, just asyou like. I love to play things."

"Come to my heart, angelic child!" criedFranci, flinging out his arms oncemore. "At length I am understood, I amappreciated, I have found a comrade!That I weep on thy bosom, Colorado!"

And, much to the disgust of Rento, hefell upon John's neck, and shed, orappeared to shed, a few tears, with greatparade of silk handkerchief. He thenadvanced to where the Skipper was

smoking his cigar in the stern, andinformed him, with a low bow, that heand Colorado were one soul, which theSkipper said he was delighted to hear,adding that he recommended the onesoul to set the two bodies to workcleaning the brasses.

Franci liked to clean the brasses,because he could see his face in them,and make eyes at himself as he wentalong; accordingly he turned threeback-somersaults, a sign of high good-humour with him, and returned to hisnew friend.

"Have you noticed, Colorado," heinquired, "the contour of my leg Did

you observe it now, quivering in the air"

John nodded appreciation, andwondered how old Franci was.

"To possess beauty," said the latter,gravely, "is a responsibility, my friend. Itis a burden, my soul! Franci has shedtears over it, the tears of a poet. Youhave read of Apollo, at least you haveheard of him, the god of poetry, ofmusic, of grace yes Behold him,Colorado! He lives before you, in theform of Franci. Come on, that we cleantogether the brasses!"

As for the monkeys, they at once

adopted John as their companion andtheir lawful prey. They climbed overhim, they tried to get into his pockets,they nestled in his arms, they challengedhim to races among the yards. TheSkipper was their king, Franci was theirmodel, the ideal toward which theyvainly aspired. Rento, good, homelyRento, was the person who fed them,and with whom they could take anyliberties, with no danger of a beating;but the new-comer, the boy John, wassimply another monkey like themselves.Dressed up, it was true, like men, but inno other way resembling them morethan another, more than themselves. Lethim come and play, then, and put onno airs. These were the sentiments of

Jack and Jim, and John responded tothem with hearty good-will.

The Skipper sat smoking, and watchedwith a quiet smile the gambols of thethree young creatures, as they sped hereand there about the rigging, chattering,laughing, shrieking with glee.

"Laugh, my son!" he said to himself,between the puffs of his cigar. "Laughand play, my little son! Far too littlelaughter has been in thy life so far; herethou shalt be as gay as the sun is brighton the Bahamas. Of what use to be asailor, if not to rejoice, and to see withjoy the works of God and His gloryLaugh, Colorado, the sound is music in

my ears!"

But by-and-by the play must cease.Orders were given, and Rento andFranci set to work in good earnest. Thewind was fair, the tide was setting out.What should keep them longer hereThe sails were hoisted to the tune of"Baltimore," and Rento's gruff bassand Franci's melting tenor weremingled for once in friendly harmony.

"I wish I was in Baltimore! lo! A-skating on the sanded floor. A longtime ago! Forever and forever, lo!Forever and forever, boys, A long timeago!"

Just as the cables were about to be castoff, a hail was heard from the wharf,and Mr. Bill Hen Pike appeared, purpleand breathless.

"Schooner ahoy!" he gasped; and thenfell against a post and mopped hisbrow.

"Senor!" responded the Skipper,coming to the stern, and greeting hisguest with a wave of the hand, "youcome to bid us farewell It is kindlydone! Or you bring us, perhaps, amessage from our revered uncle Speakwith haste, Senor, the tide waits not!"

"I I brought this!" said Mr. Bill Hen,

holding up a small object. "I went upinto his room, to see if there wasanything he might like, and there warn'tnothing but just this. I thought you'dlike to have it, Johnny, to take alongwith you."

The good man's voice faltered; John ranto the stern, and held out his handseagerly, tenderly, crying, "Oh, thankyou, dear Mr. Pike! thank you so very,very much!"

For it was the china poodle that Mr. BillHen had brought. When the treasurewas safe in the child's hands, Mr. BillHen breathed more freely.

"Now you'll have something toremember us by, Johnny!" he said."We've lotted on ye a good deal, here tothe village; more maybe than youthought on. I I'll miss ye consid'able,off and on, ye see, off and on. You'llthink about us nows and thens, won'tye, Bub "

"Oh, yes, indeed!" cried little John,eagerly. "I shall think of you a great,great deal, Mr. Bill Hen! You havealways been so good and kind to me,and I shall miss you, too, and Lena, andlots of people. And and how is CousinScraper, please, Mr. Bill Hen Does hemiss me, do you think "

"He's all right!" replied Mr. Bill Hen,gruffly. "Doosn't seem none the worsefor his tantrum. No, if you ask me, Ican't say as he seems to miss ye, notanyways to hurt him, that is. He'll beout again to-morrow all right, doctorsays; and besides bein' rather uglier thancommon all day, I don't see nodifference in him."

John sighed, but not very heavily.

"I suppose if I had been nicer he mighthave missed me," he said; "but then, onthe other hand, if he missed me, hewouldn't be so comfortable at mygoing away; so, you see!"

Mr. Bill Hen did not see, but he said itwas of no consequence. Then, comingto the edge of the wharf, he shookhands all round, never noticing, in thepreoccupation of his mind, the knifethat Franci flashed and brandished inhis eyes as a parting dramatic effect. Heheld John's hand long, and seemed tolabour for words, but found none; andso they slipped away and left himstanding alone on the wharf, a forlornfigure.

Down the river! Sailing, sailing over themagical waters, past the fairy shores,already darkening into twilight shadesof purple and gray. The white schoonerglided along, passing, as she had come,

like a dream. In the bow stood theSkipper, his eyes bent forward, his handclasping fast the hand of the child.

"We go, Colorado!" he said. "We go, myson, to new worlds, to a new life. May ablessing be upon them, as my heartfeels there will be. Behold, my friend,the ways of God, very wonderful tomen of the sea. I come up this river,with what thoughts in my heart Partlyof curiosity, that I see the place wheremy mother, long dead, was born, cameto her womanhood; partly oftenderness for her memory, regard forher wish; partly, also, for anger at thevillain brother, my uncle, and desire forrevenge, for my rights. I come, and I

find a child! A brother for my presentlife, a son for my age, a friend for myheart! Living upon the sea, Colorado, aman has much time for thought; the seaspeaks to him, the sky, the wind andwave. What is the word they say, eachand every one, in the ear of the sailor'Glory to God!' That is it, my son. Letus give thanks, and begin with joy ournew life together!"

Down the river! The banks fade intoshadow, the breeze sinks away, but stillthe tide flows free, and the schoonerslips along like a spirit. Now comes upthe white fog, the fog out of which shecame gliding that first morning; and itreceives her as a bride, and folds her in

its arms, and she melts into thewhiteness and is gone. Was it all adream Or does there still come back tous, faintly borne, sweetly ringing, thesong of the sailors

[Music]

For-ev-er and for-ev-er I o, For-ev-erand for-ev-er boys, A long time a-go.

The Hildegarde Series

AND OTHER BOOKS BY LAURAE. RICHARDS.

***Next to Miss Alcott's famous "LittleWomen" series they easily rank, and nobooks that have appeared in recenttimes may be more safely put into thehands of a bright, intelligent girl thanthese four "Queen Hildegarde" books.

HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS.

By Laura E. Richards. A companion to"Queen Hildegarde," etc. Illustratedfrom original designs. Square 16mo,cloth. $1.25.

A new volume in the "Hildegarde"Series, some of the best and most

deservedly popular books for girlsissued in recent years. This new volumeis fully equal to its predecessors inpoint of interest, and is sure to renewthe popularity of the entire series.

QUEEN HILDEGARDE.

A story for girls, by Laura E. Richards,author of "Captain January," etc.Illustrated from original designs byGarrett (292 pp). Square 16mo, cloth.$1.25.

"We would like to see the sensible,heroine-loving girl in her early teens

who would not like this book. Not tolike it would simply argue a screw loosesomewhere." Boston Post.

HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY.

A companion to "Queen Hildegarde."By Laura E. Richards. Illustrated withfull-page plates by Copeland. Square16mo, cloth. $1.25.

HILDEGARDE'S HOME.

By Laura E. Richards, author of

"Queen Hildegarde," "CaptainJanuary," etc. Illustrated with originaldesigns by Merrill. Square 16mo, cloth.$1.25.

ALSO

FOUR FEET, TWO FEET, AND NOFEET;

Or, Furry and Feathery Pets, and Howthey Live. Stories of Animals, Fishesand Birds for the Little Folks. Edited byLaura E. Richards. Illustrated withnearly 250 wood engravings, all originalin design, and engraved by George T.

Andrew. Quarto. Illuminated boardcovers. $1.75.

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP.

The story of their lives and otherwonderful things related by The Man inthe Moon, done in the vernacular fromthe lunacular form, by Laura E.Richards, daughter of Julia WardHowe, author of "Four Feet, Two Feet,and No Feet," "Joyous Story of Toto,"etc. With a large number of beautifulillustrations by Addie Ledyard, KateGreenaway and others. Quarto.Illuminated board covers. $1.25.

SIX GIRLS.

A delightful book for girls. By FannieBelle Irving, a gifted writer, and nieceof Washington Irving. Illustrated fromdesigns by Merrill. 16mo, cloth. Boston.$1.25.

Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.

Illustrated Gift Books

FOR ALL SEASONS.

AMERICA'S GODFATHER;

Or, the Florentine Gentleman. Beingthe story of Amerigo Vespucci. ByVirginia W. Johnson, author of "TheLily of the Arno," etc. Handsomelyprinted from large type, on fine paper,and illustrated with twenty full-pageplates in half-tone. Small, 8vo,handsomely bound in cloth, extra,original and very handsome coverdesign, gilt top, in a box. $2.50.

WILLIAM WARE'S BOOKS.

ZENOBIA;

Queen of Palmyra. A tale of theRoman Empire in the days of theEmperor Aurelian. By William Ware,author of "Aurelian," "Julian," etc.Holiday edition. Handsomely printedfrom new and large type on laid paper,and handsomely illustrated with twentyfull-page plates in half-tone fromphotographs taken in Palmyra. Small8vo, tastefully bound in parti-coloredcloth, decorated in gold, with cameoportrait on side, gilt top, in a box. $2.50

A handsome holiday edition of afamous historical novel, still popularand worthy of preservation in an

attractive form. The illustrations addconsiderably to its interest, depictingthe ruins of a splendid civilization, thatwas at its zenith nearly two thousandyears ago.

AURELIAN;

Emperor of Rome. A tale of theRoman Empire in the Third Century.By William Ware, author of "Zenobia,"etc. Handsomely printed from new,large type, and illustrated with twentyfull-page plates in half-tone fromphotographs of Roman scenesdescribed in the story. Small 8vo, cloth,

gilt top, uniform with our holiday edition of"Zenobia," each copy in a box. $2.50.

A companion edition to the handsomeholiday edition of "Zenobia." It is anhistorical tale of no ordinary power,and is familiar to the present generationchiefly from the reputation of itsformer success, but well deservesrenewed popularity.

JULIAN;

Or Scenes in Judea. By William Ware,author of "Zenobia," etc. Handsomelyprinted from new, large type, on laid

paper, and illustrated with full-pageplates reproducing historic scenesdescribed in the narrative. Small 8vo,cloth, gilt top, uniform with ourholiday editions of "Zenobia" and"Aurelian," each copy in a box. $2.50.

Completes the series of historicalromances by the author of "Zenobia."The scene is laid at an earlier date than"Aurelian," being in fact during thetime of Christ's ministrations in Judea,scenes which have since been sograndly used by Lew Wallace in "BenHur." To most of the presentgeneration the book will possess all thecharm of novelty.

Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.

Italian Cities Illustrated

ROME OF TO-DAY ANDYESTERDAY:

The Pagan Centuries. By John Dennie.New holiday edition. Illustrated withmaps, plans, and twenty full-page plates,reproducing, in photogravure,photographs of the most importantpoints of interest. Small 8vo, vellumcloth, cover design in gold and colors,gilt tops, slip covers, in cloth case.$3.00.

GENOA THE SUPERB:

The City of Columbus. By Virginia W.Johnson, author of "The Lily of theArno," etc. Handsomely printed fromlarge type on laid paper and illustratedwith twenty full-page photogravureplates from actual photographs ofbuildings, statues, church interiors, etc.,in the City of Genoa. Small 8vo,tastefully bound in white vellum cloth,illuminated in gold and colors, gilt top,uncut edges, with slip cover in scarlet.Each copy in a neat cloth case. $3.00.

THE LILY OF THE ARNO;

Or, Florence, Past and Present, byVirginia W. Johnson. Charminglyillustrated with twenty-five full-pagephotogravure plates from originalPhotographs of points of interest inthe beautiful City of Florence, "TheLily of the Arno." Small 8vo,handsomely bound in white vellumcloth, with cover design in gold andcolors, gilt top, uncut edges, with slipcovers in scarlet. Each copy in a neatcloth case. $3.00.

NAPLES; THE CITY OFPARTHENOPE;

And its environs. By Clara ErskineClement, author of "A Handbook ofLegendary and Mythological Art," "TheQueen of the Adriatic," etc.Handsomely illustrated with twentyfull-page plates in photogravure fromphotographs of historic scenes in andaround Naples. Small 8vo, handsomelybound in extra cloth, with handsomecover design, gilt top, slip cover, in aneat cloth case. $3.00.

THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC;

Or, Venice, Mediaeval and Modern. ByClara Erskine Clement, author of "AHandbook of Legendary andMythological Art," etc. Handsomelyillustrated with twenty full-pagephotogravures from recentphotographs of the principal points ofinterest. Small 8vo, vellum cloth,illuminated in gold and colors, gilt tops,with slip cover, in cloth case. $3.00.

Great Cities of the World.

THE CITY OF THE SULTANS;

Or, Constantinople, the Sentinel of theBosphorus. By Clara Erskine Clement,author of "Naples," "Queen of theAdriatic," etc. Handsomely illustratedwith full-page photogravures fromoriginal photographs. Small 8vo, cloth,substantially uniform in style withseries of "Italian Cities Illustrated."with slip cover, in cloth case. $3.00.

The initial volume of a new series ofhandsome gift books, companions tothe popular "Italian Cities Illustrated."Other volumes in press.

Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.

THE END