[Illustration]

NAUTILUS

BYLAURA E. RICHARDSAUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY, " "MELODY, " "MARIE, " "QUEEN HILDEGARDE, "ETC. , ETC. 

Illustrated

TENTH THOUSAND

BOSTONESTES AND LAURIAT1895

_Copyright, 1895, _BY ESTES AND LAURIAT_All rights reservedEntered at Stationers' Hall, London. _

_Typography and Printing by__C. H. Simonds & Co. __Electrotyping by Geo. C. Scott & Sons__Boston, U. S. A. _

TO MY DEAR FRIENDS, THE MEMBERS OF THEHOWE CLUB, OF GARDINER, MAINE, THIS STORY 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 DECISION 105

 XI. SAILING 113

NAUTILUS

[Illustration: 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 been heavy rains within a few days; theriver was full of drifting logs, bits of bark, odds and ends of variouskinds; the water, usually so blue, looked brown and thick. It swirledround the great mossy piers, making eddies between them; from time totime the boy dropped bits of paper into these eddies, and saw withdelight how they spun round and round, like living things, and finallygave up the struggle and were borne away down stream. 

"Only, in the real maelstrom, " he said, "they don't be carried away;they go over the edge, down into the black hole, whole ships and ships, and you never see them again. I wonder where they stop, or whether itgoes through to the other side of the world. "

A great log came drifting along, and struck against a pier; the endswung round, and it rested for a few moments, beating against the woodenwall. This, it was evident, was a wrecked vessel, and it behooved theboy John, as a hero and a life-saver, to rescue her passengers. Seizinga pole, he lay down on his stomach and carefully drew the log towardhim, murmuring words of cheer the while. 

"They are almost starved to death!" he said, pitifully. "The captain istied to the mast, and they have not had anything to eat but boots and apuppy for three weeks. The mate and some of the sailors took all theboats and ran away, --at least, not ran, but went off and left the restof 'em; and they have all said their prayers, for they are very goodfolks, and the captain didn't _want_ to kill the puppy one bit, but hehad to, or else they would all be dead now. And--and the reckoning wasdead, --I wonder what that means, and why it is dead so often, --and sothey couldn't tell where they were, but they knew that there werecannibals on _almost_ all the islands, and this was the hungriest timeof the year for cannibals. "

Here followed a few breathless moments, during which the captain, hiswife and child, and the faithful members of the crew, were pulled up tothe wharf by the unaided arm of the boy John. He wrapped them in hotblankets and gave them brandy and peanut taffy: the first because it waswhat they always did in books; the second because it was the best thingin the world, and would take away the nasty taste of the brandy. 

Leaving them in safety, and in floods of grateful tears, the rescuerbent over the side of the wharf once more, intent on saving the gallantship from her fate; but at this moment came a strong swirl of tide, thelog swung round once more and floated off, and the rescuer fell "allalong" into the water. This was nothing unusual, and he came puffing andpanting up the slippery logs, and sat down again, shaking himself like aNewfoundland puppy. He wished the shipwrecked crew had not seen him; heknew he should get a whipping when he reached home, but that was of lessconsequence. Anyhow, she was an old vessel, and now the captain wouldget a new ship--a fine one, full rigged, with new sails as white assnow; and on his next voyage he would take him, the boy John, in placeof the faithless mate, and they would sail away, away, down the riverand far across the ocean, and then, --then he would hear the sound of thesea. After all, you never could hear it in the river, though that was, oh, so much better than nothing! But the things that the shells meantwhen they whispered, the things that the wind said over and over in thepine trees, those things you never could know until you heard the realsound of the real sea. 

The child rose and stretched himself wearily. He had had a happy time, but it was over now; he must leave the water, which he cared more forthan for anything in the world, --must leave the water and go back to thesmall close house, and go to bed, and dream no more dreams. Ah! whenwould some one come, --no play hero, but a real one, in a white-sailedship, and carry him off, never to set foot on shore again?

He turned to go, for the shadows were falling, and already a fog hadcrept up the river, almost hiding the brown, swiftly-flowing water; yetbefore leaving the wharf he turned back once more and looked up anddown, with eyes that strove to pierce the fog veil, --eager, longing eyesof a child, who hopes every moment to see the doors open intofairy-land. 

And lo! what was this that he saw? What was this that came glidingslowly, silently out of the dusk, out of the whiteness, itself whiterthan the river fog, more shadowy than the films of twilight? The childheld his breath, and his heart beat fast, fast. A vessel, or the ghostof a vessel? Nearer and nearer it came, and now he could see masts andspars, sails spread to catch the faint breeze, gleaming brass-work aboutthe decks. A vessel, surely; yet, --what was that? The fog lifted for amoment, or else his eyes grew better used to the dimness, and he saw astrange thing. On the prow of the vessel, which now was seen to be aschooner, stood a figure; a statue, was it? Surely it was a statue ofbronze, like the Soldiers' Monument, leaning against the mast, withfolded arms. 

Nearer! Fear seized the boy, for he thought the statue had eyes likereal eyes, and he saw them move, as if looking from right to left; thewhites glistened, the dark balls rolled from side to side. The childstood still, feeling as if he had called up this phantom out of his ownthoughts; perhaps in another minute it would fade away into the fog, asit had come, and leave only the flowing tide and the shrouded banks oneither side!

Nearer! and now the bronze figure lifted its arm, slowly, silently, andpointed at the boy. But this was more than flesh and blood could stand;little John uttered a choking cry, and turning his back on the awfulportent, ran home as fast as he could lay foot to ground. And on seeingthis the bronze figure laughed, and its teeth glistened, even as theeyes had done. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE SKIPPER. 

The little boy slept brokenly that night. Bronze statues flitted throughhis dreams, sometimes frowning darkly on him, folding him in an ironclasp, dragging him down into the depths of roaring whirlpools;sometimes, still stranger to say, smiling, looking on him with kindlyeyes, and telling him that the sea was not so far away as he thought, and that one day he should see it and know the sound of it. His bed wasa white schooner, --there seemed no possible doubt of that; it tossed upand down as it lay by the wharf; and once the lines were cast off, andhe was about to be carried away, when up rose the crew that he hadrescued from shipwreck, and cried with one voice, "No! no! he shall notgo!" The voice was that of Mr. Endymion Scraper, and not a pleasantvoice to hear; moreover, the voice had hands, lean and hard, whichclutched the boy's shoulder, and shook him roughly; and at last, briefly, it appeared that it was time to get up, and that if the boyJohn did not get up that minute, like the lazy good-for-nothing he was, Mr. Scraper would give him such a lesson as he would not forget for onewhile. 

John tumbled out of bed, and stood rubbing his eyes for a moment, hiswits still abroad. The water heaved and subsided under him, butpresently it hardened into the garret floor. He staggered a few steps, as the hard hand gave him a push and let him go, then stood firm andlooked about him. Gradually the room grew familiar; the painted bed andchair, the window with its four small panes, which he loved to polishand clean, "so that the sky could come through, " the purple mussel-shelland the china dog, his sole treasures and ornaments. The mussel was hisgreatest joy, perhaps; it had been given him by a fisherman, who hadbrought a pocket-full back from his sea trip, to please his ownchildren. It made no sound, but the tint was pure and lovely, and it waslined with rainbow pearl. The dog was not jealous, for he knew (or theboy John thought he knew), that he was, after all, the morecompanionable of the two, and that he was talked to ten times for themussel's once. John was telling him now, as he struggled into his shirtand trousers, about the vision of last night, and the dreams thatfollowed it. "And as soon as ever I have my chores done, " he said, andhis eyes shone, and his cheek flushed at the thought, "as soon as ever, I'm going down there, just to see. Of course, I suppose it isn't there, you know; but then, --if it should be!"

The dog expressed sympathy in his usual quiet way, and was of theopinion that John should go by all means, for, after all, who could saythat the vision might not have been reality? When one considered thestories one had read! and had not the dog just heard the whole of"Robinson Crusoe" read aloud, bit by bit, in stealthy whispers, by earlydaylight, by moonlight, by stray bits of candle begged from aneighbor, --had he not heard and appreciated every word of the immortalstory? He was no ignorant dog, indeed! His advice was worth having. 

Breakfast was soon eaten; it did not take long to eat breakfast in Mr. Scraper's house. The chores were a more serious matter, for every spoonand plate had to be washed to the tune of a lashing tongue, and under aneye that withered all it lighted on. But at last, --at last the happyhour came when the tyrant's back was turned, and the tyrant's feettottered off in the direction of the post-office. The daily purchases, the daily gossip at the "store, " would fill the rest of the morning, asJohn well knew. He listened in silence to the charges to "keep stiddy towork, and git that p'tater-patch wed by noon;" he watched the departureof his tormentor, and went straight to the potato-patch, duty and fearleading him by either hand. The weeds had no safety of their lives thatday; he was in too great a hurry to dally, as he loved to do, over thebigger stalks of pigweed, the giants which he, with his trustysword--only it was a hoe--would presently dash to the earth and behead, and tear in pieces. Even the sprawling pusley-stems, which generallyplayed the part of devil-fish and tarantulas and various other monsters, suffered no amputation of limb by limb, but were torn up with mercifulhaste, and flung in heaps together. 

Was the potato-patch thoroughly "wed?" I hardly know. But I know that inless than an hour after Mr. Endymion Scraper started for the village theboy John was on his way to the wharf. 

As he drew near the river he found that something was the matter withhis breath. It would not come regularly, but in gasps and sighs; hisheart beat so hard, and was so high up in his throat he was almostchoked. Would he see anything when he turned the corner that led down tothe wharf? And if anything, --what? Then he shut his eyes and turned thecorner. 

The schooner was there. No longer spectral or shadowy, she lay in plainsight by the wharf, her trim lines pleasant to look at, her decksshining with neatness, her canvas all spread out to dry, for the nightdew had been heavy. Lifting his fearful eyes, the child saw the bronzefigure standing in the bow, but now it was plainly seen to be a man, aswarthy man, with close-curled black hair, and bright, dark eyes. Twoother men were lounging about the deck, but John took little heed ofthem. This man, the strangest he had ever seen, claimed his wholethought. He was as dark as the people in the geography book, where thepictures of the different races were; not an Ethiopian, evidently (Johnloved the long words in the geography book), because his nose wasstraight and his lips thin; perhaps a Malay or an Arab. If one could seea real Arab, one could ask him about the horses, and whether the dateswere always sticky, and what he did in a sandstorm, and lots ofinteresting things. And then a Malay, --why, you could ask him how hefelt when he ran amuck, --only, perhaps, that would not be polite. 

These meditations were interrupted by a hail from the schooner. It wasthe dark man himself who spoke, in a quiet voice that sounded kind. 

"Good-morning, sir! Will you come aboard this morning?"

John was not used to being called "Sir, " and the word fell pleasantly onears that shrank from the detested syllable "Bub, " with which strangerswere wont to greet him. 

"Yes, if you please, " he answered, with some dignity. It is, perhaps, difficult to be stately when one is only five feet tall, but John feltstately inside, as well as shy. The stranger turned and made a sign tothe other men, who came quickly, bringing a gang-plank, which they ranout from the schooner's deck to the wharf. The Skipper, for such thedark man appeared to be, made a sign of invitation, and after a moment'shesitation, John ran across and stood on the deck of the white schooner. Was he still dreaming? Would he wake in a moment and find himself backin the garret at home, with Mr. Scraper shaking him?

"Welcome, young gentleman!" said the Skipper, holding out his hand. "Welcome! the first visitor to the schooner. That it is a child, bringsluck for the next voyage, so we owe you a thank. We arrived last nightonly. And what 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, --"two Johns, the black and the red. Youshould be called Juan Colorado, for your hair of red gold. "

The boy looked up quickly, his cheek flushing; he did not like to belaughed at; but the Skipper's face was perfectly grave, and onlycourtesy and hospitality shone from his dark eyes. 

"I wonder what the schooner's name is!" John said, presently, speakinglow, and addressing his remarks apparently to the mast, which he kickedgently with his foot. 

"The schooner is the 'Nautilus, ' young gentleman!"

The reply came from the Skipper, not from the mast, yet it was still tothe latter that the boy made his next observation. 

"I wonder where she comes from, and where she is going, and what she isgoing to do here!" And having delivered himself breathlessly of theseremarks, the boy John wished he could squeeze through a port-hole, ormelt away into foam, or get away somehow, anyhow. 

But now he felt himself lifted in strong arms, and set on the rail ofthe vessel, with his eyes just opposite those of the Skipper, so that hecould not look up without meeting them; and on so looking up, it becameevident immediately that this was the kindest man in the world, and thathe liked boys, and that, finally, there was nothing to be afraid of. Onwhich John heaved a mighty sigh of relief, and then smiled, and thenlaughed. 

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

"Me, too, " replied the Skipper. "I also like to know things. How elseshall we become wise, Juan Colorado? Now listen, and you shall hear. This schooner is the 'Nautilus, ' as I say, and she is a Spanishschooner. Yes;" (in reply to the question in the boy's eyes, ) "I ampartly 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, and stood at the head of his class. "Part of the West Indies, " he said, rapidly. "Low, coral islands. One ofthem, San Salvador, is said to be the first land discovered by Columbusin 1492. Principal exports, sugar, coffee, cotton, tobacco, and tropicalfruits. Belong to Great Britain. That's all I know. "

"Caramba!" said a handsome youth, who was lounging on the rail a fewfeet off, gazing on with idle eyes, "you got the schoolmaster here, Patron! I did not know all that, me, and I come, too, from Bahamas. Say, you teach a school, M'sieur?"

"Franci!" said the Patron, gravely. 

"Si, Señor!" said Franci, with a beautiful smile, which showed his teethunder his black mustache. 

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

"Si, Señor!" said Franci, and disappeared down the hatchway. 

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

"Franci understands me, " he said. "I wish to tell him that he go abouthis business, and not linger, --as you say, loaf about the deck. I take alittle way round about, but he understands very well, Franci. And of allthese exports, what does the young gentleman think I have brought fromthe Bahamas?"

"I--I was just wondering!" John confessed; but he did not add hissecret hope that it was something more interesting than cotton ortobacco. 

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

Now it became evident to the boy that all had indeed been a dream. Itsometimes happened that way, dreaming that you woke and found it alltrue, and then starting up to find that the first waking had been ofdream-stuff too, that it was melting away from your sight, from yourgrasp; even things that looked so real, so real, --he pinched himselfviolently, and shook his head, and tried to break loose from fetters ofsleep, binding him to such sweet wonders, that he must lose next moment;but no waking came, and the wonders remained. 

The cabin was full of shells. Across one end of the little room ran aglazed counter, where lay heaped together various objects of jewelry, shell necklaces, alligator teeth and sea-beans set in various ways, tortoise-shell combs, bracelets and hairpins, --a dazzling array. Yet theboy's eyes passed almost carelessly over these treasures, to light withquick enchantment on the shells themselves, the _real_ shells, as heinstantly named them to himself, resenting half-consciously the turningof Nature's wonders into objects of vulgar adornment. 

The shells were here, the shells were there, the shells were all around!Shelf above shelf of them, piled in heaps, lying in solitary splendor, arranged in patterns, --John had never, in his wildest dreams, seen somany shells. Half the poetry of his little life had been in the lovelyforms and colors that lay behind the locked glass doors in Mr. Scraper'sparlor; for Mr. Scraper was a collector of shells in a small way. Johnhad supposed his collection to be, if not the only one in the world, atleast the most magnificent, by long odds; yet here were the old man'sprecious units multiplied into tens, into twenties, sometimes intohundreds, and all lying open to the day, as if anyone, even a small one, even a little boy, who almost never had anything in his hand moreprecious than his own purple mussel at home, might touch and handle themand feel himself in heaven. 

They gleamed with the banded glories of the rainbow: they softened intothe moonlight beauty of the pearl; they veiled their loveliness in milkyclouds, through which the color showed as pure and sweet as the cheek ofa bride; they glowed with depths of red and flame that might almost burnto the touch. 

The little boy stood with clasped hands, and sobbed with excitement. "Did you dig up all the sea?" he asked, in a wonder that was not withoutreproach. "Are there none left any more, at all?"

The Skipper laughed quietly. "The mermaids see not any difference, sir, "he said. "Where I take one shell from its rock, I leave a hundred, athousand. The sea is a good mother, she has plenty children. See!" headded, lifting a splendid horned shell, "this is the Royal Triton. On arock I found him, twenty fathom down. It was a family party, I think, for all around they lay, some clinging to the rock, some in the mud, some walking about. I take one, two, three, put them in my pouch; up Igo, and the others, they have a little more room, 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 sharks come by, --swish! with their great tails? And why don't theyeat you, like the man in the geography book? And is there really asea-serpent? And do the oysters open and shut their mouths, so that youcan see the pearls, or how do you know which are the right ones?

"There are a great many things that I have thought about all my life, "he said, "and nobody could ever tell me. The bottom of the sea, that iswhat I want most in the world to know about. "

He paused, out of breath, and would have been abashed at his ownboldness, had not the Skipper's eyes told him so perfectly that they hadunderstood all about it, and that there was no sort of reason why heshould not ask all the questions he liked. 

They were wonderful eyes, those of the Skipper. Most black eyes arewanting in the depths that one sounds in blue, or gray, in brown, morerarely in hazel eyes; they flash with an outward brilliancy, they softeninto velvet, but one seldom sees through them into the heart. But theseeyes, though black beyond a doubt, had the darkness of deep, stillwater, when you look into it and see the surface mantling with a bluishgloss, and beneath that depth upon depth of black--clear, serene, unfathomable. And when a smile came into them, --ah, well! we all knowhow that same dark water looks when the sun strikes on it. The sunstruck now, and little John felt warm and comfortable all through hisbody and heart. 

"The bottom of the sea?" said the Skipper, taking up a shell andpolishing it on his coat-sleeve. "Yes, that is a fine place, Colorado. You mind not that I call you Colorado? It pleases me, --the name. A fineplace, truly. You have never seen the sea, young gentleman?"

The boy shook his head. 

"Never, really!" he said. "I--I've dreamed about it a great deal, and Ithink about it 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't see any endto it; that makes it seem real, somehow, I don't know why. 

"But I've heard the sound of it!" he added, his face brightening. "There's a shell in Mr. Scraper's parlour, on the mantelpiece, andsometimes when he goes to sleep I can get it for a minute, and hold itto my ear, and then I hear the sound, the sound of the sea. "

"Yes, " said the Skipper, taking up another shell from one of theshelves, a tiger cowry, rich with purple and brown. "The sound of thesea; that is a good thing. Listen here, young gentleman, and tell mewhat the tiger say to you of the sea. "

He held the shell to the boy's ear, and saw the colour and the lightcome like a wave into his face. They were silent for a moment; then thechild spoke, low and dreamily. 

"It doesn't say words, you know!" he said. "It's just a soft noise, likewhat the pine-trees make, but it sounds cool and green and--and wet. Andthere are waves a long way off, curling over and over, and breaking onwhite beaches, and they smell good and salt. And it seems to make meknow about things down under the sea, and bright colours shining throughthe water, and light coming 'way down--cool, green light, that doesn'tmake you wink when you look at it. And--and I guess there are lots offishes swimming about, and their eyes shine, too, and they move just assoft, and don't make any noise, no more than if their mother was sick inthe next room. And on the ground there seem to be like flowers, onlythey move and open and shut without any one touching them. And--and--"

Was the boy going into a trance? Were the dark eyes mesmerizing him, orwas all this to be heard in the shell? The Skipper took the shell gentlyfrom his hand, and stroked his hair once or twice, quickly and lightly. "That will do!" he said. "The young gentleman can hear truly. All thesethings are under the sea, yes, and more, oh, many more! Some day youshall see them, young gentleman; who knows? But now comes Franci to makethe dinner. Will Señor Colorado dine with the Skipper from the Bahamas?Welcome he will be, truly. "

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

"I forgot!" he cried. "I forgot all about everything, and CousinScraper will be home by this time, and--and--I'll have to be going, please; but I'll come again, if you think I may. "

The Skipper had raised his eyebrows at the name of Scraper, and was nowlooking curiously at the boy. "Who is that you say?" he asked. "Scraper, your cousin? And of your father, young gentleman, --why do you not speakof him?"

"My father is dead, " replied little John. "And my mother too, a goodwhile ago. I don't remember father. Mother----" he broke off, anddropped his eyes to hide the tears that sprang to them. "Mother died ayear ago, " he said; "ever since then I've lived with Cousin Scraper. He's some sort of kin to father, and he says he's my guardian by law. "

"His other name?" suggested the dark man, quietly. "For example, Endymion?"

"Why, yes!" cried John, raising his honest blue eyes in wonder. "Do youknow him, sir? Have you ever been here before?"

The Skipper shook his head. "Not of my life!" he said. "Yet--I make aguess at the name; perhaps of this gentleman I have heard. He--he is akind person, Colorado?"

John hung his head. He knew that he must not speak evil; his mother hadalways told him that; yet what else was there to speak about CousinScraper? "He--he collects shells!" he faltered, after a pause, duringwhich he was conscious of the Skipper's eyes piercing through andthrough him, and probably seeing the very holes in his stockings. Butnow the Skipper threw back his head with a laugh. 

"He collects shells, eh? My faith, I have come to the right place, Iwith my 'Nautilus. ' See, young gentleman! I go with my shells where Ithink is good market. In large cities, many rich people who collectshells. I sell many, many, some very precious. Never have I come up thisriver of great beauty; but I say, who knows? Maybe here are persons whoknow themselves, who have the feeling of shells in their hearts. I find, first you, Colorado; and that you have the feeling in your heart I see, at the first look you give to my pretties here. That you have thefortune to live with a collector, that I could not guess, ha? He iskind, I say, this Scraper? He loves you as a son, he gives you hisshells to look at, to care for as your own?"

John hung his head again. 

"He keeps them locked up, " he admitted. "I never had one in my hand, except the one on the mantelpiece, sometimes when he goes to sleep afterdinner. I--I must be going now!" he cried in desperation, making his wayto the gang-plank. "I must get home, or he'll--"

"What he will do?" the Skipper inquired, holding the plank in his hand. "What he do to you, young gentleman, eh? A little scold you, because youstay too long to talk with the Skipper from the Bahamas, hey? No morethan that, is it not?"

"He'll beat me, " cried little John, driven fairly past himself. "Hebeats me every time I'm late, or don't get my work done. I thank youever so much for being so kind, but I can't stay another minute. "

"Adios, then, Señor Colorado!" said the Skipper, with a stately bow. "You come soon again, I pray you. And if you will tell Sir Scraper, andall those others, your friends, the shell schooner is here. Exhibitionin a few hours ready, free to all. Explanation and instruction whendesired by intelligent persons desiring of to know the habits under thesea. Schooner 'Nautilus, ' from the Bahamas, with remarkable collectionof shells and marine curiosities. Adios, Señor Juan Colorado!"

CHAPTER III. 

A GREAT EXHIBITION. 

Little John was not the one to spread the tidings of the schooner'sarrival. He had to take his whipping, --a hard one it was!--and then hewas sent down into the cellar to sift ashes, as the most unpleasantthing that could be devised for a fine afternoon. But the news spread, for all that. John was not the only boy in the village of Tidewater, andby twelve o'clock every man, woman and child was talking about the newarrival; and by two o'clock, the dinner dishes being put away, and thetime of the evening chores still some hours off, nearly every man, womanand child was hastening in the direction of the wharf. Of course theboys were going. It was vacation time, and what else should boys do butsee all that was to be seen? And of course it was the duty of the eldersto see that the children came to no harm. So the fathers were strollingleisurely down, saying to each other that 'twas all nonsense, mostlikely, and nothing worth seeing, but some one ought to be looking outthat the boys and the women folks didn't get cheated. The mothers wereputting on their bonnets, in the serene consciousness that if anyone wasgoing to be cheated it was not they, and that goodness knew what thosemen-folks would be up to on that schooner if they were left tothemselves. And the little girls were shaking the pennies out of theirmoney boxes, or if they had no boxes, watching with eager eyes theirmore fortunate sisters. Truly, it was a great day in the village. 

The Skipper welcomed one and all. He stood by the gang-plank, and Francistood by him, cap in hand, smiling in a beautiful way. On the rail wereperched two little monkeys, their arms round each other's shoulders, their bright eyes watching with eager curiosity all that went on. Whenthe Skipper bowed, they bowed; when he smiled, they grinned; and when heput out his hand to help a woman or a child aboard, they laid theirhands on their hearts, and tried to look like Franci. The Skipper wastheir lord and master, and they loved and feared him, and did hisbidding as often as their nature would allow; but in the depths of theirlittle monkey hearts they cherished a profound admiration for Franci, and they were always hoping that this time they were looking like himwhen they smiled. (But they never were!)

The only other visible member of the crew was a long, lazy-lookingYankee, whom the Skipper called Rento, and the others plain "Rent, " hisfull name of Laurentus Woodcock being more than they could away with. But it was not to see the crew, neither the schooner (though she was apretty schooner enough, as anybody who knew about such matters couldsee), that the village had come out; it was to see the exhibition, andthe exhibition was ready for them. An awning was spread over theafter-deck, and under this was arranged with care the main collection ofcorals and shells, the commoner sorts, such as found a ready sale atlow prices. There was pure white coral, in long branches, studded withtiny points, like the wraith of the fairy thorn; there were great pilesof the delicate fan-coral, which the sailors call sea-fans, and whichFranci would hold out to every girl who had any pretence to good looks, with his most gracious bow, and "Young lady like to fan herself, keepthe sun off, _here_ you air, ladies!" While Laurentus would blush andhang his head if any woman addressed him, and would murmur the wrongprice in an unintelligible voice if the woman happened to be young andpretty. 

Then there were mushroom corals, so inviting that one could hardlyrefrain from carrying them home and cooking them for tea; and pincushioncorals, round and hard, looking as if they had been stolen from the bestbedroom of some uncompromising New England mermaid. Yes; there was noend to the corals. The lovely white branches were cheap, and nearlyevery child went off with a branch, small or large, dwelling on it witheyes of rapture, seeing nothing else in the world, in some cases failingto see even the way, and being rescued from peril of water by theSkipper or Rento. The favourite shells were the conches, of all sizesand varieties, from the huge pink-lipped Tritons of the "Triumph ofGalatea, " down to fairy things, many-whorled, rainbow-tinted, which wereincluded in the "handful for five cents" which Franci joyouslyproclaimed at intervals, when he thought the children looked wistful andneeded cheering up, since they could not have all they saw. 

But the Cypræas were beautiful, too, and of every colour, from white orpalest amber to deep sullen purples and browns that melted into ebony. These were the shells with voices, that spoke of the sea; many a childraised them to his ear, and listened with vague delight to the far-away, uncertain murmur; but not to every child is it given to hear the soundof the sea, and it may be doubted whether any boy or girl would haveunderstood what the boy John meant, if he had declared the things thatthe shell had said to him. 

Where was John? Franci and Rento had charge of the deck exhibition, butthe Skipper kept his station at the head of the gang-plank, and whilecourteously receiving his visitors, with a word of welcome for each, helooked often up the road to see if his little friend was coming. Hethought the gleam of red hair would brighten the landscape; but it camenot, and the Skipper was not one to neglect a possible customer. Now andagain he would touch some one on the arm, and murmur gently, "In a fewmoments presently, other exhibition in the cabin, to which I have thepleasure of invite you. I attend in person, which is free to visitors. "

He spoke without accent, the Skipper, but his sentences were sometimesframed on foreign models, and it was no wonder if now and then he met ablank stare. He looked a little bored, possibly; these faces, full ofidle wonder, showed no trace of the collector's eager gaze; yet he wascontent to wait, it appeared. Mr. Bill Hen Pike judged, from the way inwhich everything was trigged up, that the schooner "cal'lated to makesome stay hereabouts;" and the Skipper did not contradict him, but bowedgravely, and said, "In a few moments, gentleman, do me the honour todescend to the cabin, where I take the pleasure of exhibit remarkablecollection of shells. "

But now the Skipper raised his head, and became in a moment keenlyalert; for a new figure was seen making its slow way to the wharf, --anew figure, and a singular one. 

An old man, white-haired and wizen, with a face like a knife-blade, andred, blinking eyes. The face wore a look of eager yet dolefulanticipation, as of a man going to execution and possessed with anintense desire to feel the edge of the axe. His thin fingers twitchedand fumbled about his pockets, his lips moved, and he shook his headfrom time to time. This old gentleman was clad in nankeen trousers ofancient cut, a velvet waistcoat and a blue swallow-tail coat, allgreatly too large for him. His scant locks were crowned by a cheap strawhat of the newest make, his shoes and gaiters were of a twenty-year-oldpattern. Altogether, he was not an ordinary-looking old gentleman, norwas his appearance agreeable; but the village people took no specialnotice of him, being well used to Mr. Endymion Scraper and his littleways. They knew that he was wearing out the clothes that his extravagantuncle had left behind him at his death, twenty years ago. They had seenthree velvet waistcoats worn out, and one of brocade; there were sixteenleft, as any woman in the village could tell you. As for the nankeentrousers, some people said there were ten dozen of them in the greatoak chest, but that might be an exaggeration. 

Walking just behind this pleasant old person, with feet that tried to gosedately, and not betray by hopping and skippings the joy that was inthem, came the boy John; brought along in case there should be a parcelto carry. Mr. Scraper had brought, too, his supple bamboo cane, in caseof need; it was a cane of singular parts, and had a way that was all itsown of curling about the legs and coming up "rap" against the tenderpart of the calf. The boy John was intimately acquainted with the cane;therefore, when his legs refused to go steadily, but danced in spite ofhim, he had dropped behind Mr. Endymion, and kept well out of reach ofthe searching snake of polished cane. 

The Skipper greeted the new-comer with his loftiest courtesy, which wasquite thrown away on the old gentleman. 

"Hey! hey!" said Mr. Scraper, nodding his head, and fumbling in hiswaistcoat pocket, "got some shells, I hear! Got some shells, eh? Nothingbut rubbish, I'll swear; nothing but rubbish. Seen 'em all before youwere born; not worth looking at, I'll bet a pumpkin. "

"Why, Deacon Scraper, how you do talk!" exclaimed pretty Lena Brown, whowas standing near by. "The shells are just elegant, I think; toohandsome for anything. "

"All rubbish! all rubbish!" the old gentleman repeated, hastily. "Children's nonsense, every bit of it. Have you got anything out of thecommon, though? have you, hey?"

He looked up suddenly at the Skipper, screwing his little eyes at himlike animated corkscrews; but he read nothing in the large, calm gazethat met his. 

"The gentleman please to step down in the cabin, " the Skipper said, witha stately gesture. "At liberty in a moment, I shall take the pleasure toexhibit my collection. The gentleman is a collector?" he added, quietly;but this Mr. Scraper would not hear of. 

"Nothing of the sort!" he cried, testily, "nothing of the sort! Justcame down here with this fool boy, to keep him from falling into thewater. Don't know one 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 on the other with fear, the gravedignity of his new friend filling him with awe. Perhaps he would not benoticed now, when all the grown people were here; perhaps--but histhoughts were put to flight by Mr. Scraper's words. John was a truthfulboy, and he could not have the Spanish man think he had lied in sayingthat the old man was a collector. He was stepping forward, his facealight with eager protest, when Mr. Endymion Scraper brought his caneround with a backward sweep, catching John on the legs with spitefulemphasis. The Skipper saw it, and a dark red flushed through the bronzeof his cheek. His glance caught the child's and held it, speaking anger, cheer, and the promise of better things; the boy dropped back andrubbed his smarting shins, well content, with a warm feeling about theheart. 

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

He led the way, and pretty Lena Brown came next; she glanced up at himas he held out his strong hand to help her down the ladder. Her blueeyes were very sweet as she met his gaze, and the faint wild-rose blushbecame her well. Certainly, Lena was a very pretty girl. Franci nearlytumbled over the companion-rail in his endeavours to look after her, andLaurentus Woodcock, catching one glimpse of her face, retreated to thefarthest corner of the after-deck, and sold a Triton for ten cents, whenthe lowest price was thirty. 

Several other persons came down into the cabin at the same time. Therewas Mr. Bill Hen Pike. Mr. Bill Hen had been a sailor himself fiftyyears ago, and it was a point of honour with him to visit anything withkeel and sails that came up the river. He used nautical expressionswhenever it could be managed, and was the village authority on allsea-going matters. 

There were Isaac Cutter and his wife, who had money to spend, and werenot averse to showing it; there was Miss Eliza Clinch, who had spent herfifty years of life in looking for a bargain, which she had not yetfound; and some others. But though the Skipper was courteous to all, hekept close to the side of Mr. Endymion Scraper; and the boy John, andLena Brown, who was always kind to him, kept close beside the other two. The girl was enchanted with what she saw, but her joy was chiefly inthe trinkets that filled the glass counter, --the necklaces andbracelets, the shell hairpins and mother-of-pearl portemonnaies. 

"Aint they handsome?" she cried, over and over, surveying the treasureswith clasped hands and shining eyes. "Oh, Johnny! isn't that justelegant? Did you ever see such beautiful things? I don't think thePresident's wife has no handsomer than them!"

John frowned a little at these ecstasies, and glanced at the Skipper;but the Skipper was apparently absorbed in polishing the Royal Tritons, and showing them to Mr, Scraper, who regarded them with disdainful eyes, while his fingers twitched to lay hold of them. 

"Why, Lena, you don't want to be looking at those things!" the boyurged. "See! here are the shells! Here are the real ones, not made upinto truck, but just themselves. Oh, oh! Lena, look!"

The Skipper was coming forward with a shell in his hand of exquisitecolour and shape. 

"Perhaps the young lady like to see this?" he said. "This the VolutaMusica, --a valuable shell, young lady. You look, and see the lines ofthe staff on the shell, so? Here they run, you see! The mermaids underthe water, they have among themselves no sheet-music, so on shells theymust read it. Can the young lady follow the notes if she take the shellin her hand?"

He laid the lovely thing in the girl's hand, and marked how the polishedlip and the soft pink palm wore the same tender shade of rose; but hesaid nothing of this, for he was not Franci. 

Lena examined the shell curiously. "It does look like music!" she said. "But there ain't really any notes, are there? Not like our notes, Imean. If there was, I should admire to see how they sounded on the reedorgan. It would make a pretty pin, if 't wasn't so big!"

She was about to hand the shell back quietly--she looked like arose-leaf in moonlight, this pretty Lena, but she was practical, and hadlittle imagination--but John caught it from her with a swift yettimorous motion. 

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

The dark man nodded and smiled; but a moment later, seeing the leanfingers of Mr. Endymion Scraper about to clutch the treasure, he took itquietly in his own hand again, and turned to the old man. 

"Gentleman spoke to me?" he inquired, blandly. 

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

"That's a poor specimen, " he cried now, eying the shell greedily, "avery poor specimen! What do you expect to get for it, hey?"

"A perfect specimen!" replied the Skipper, calmly. "The gentleman hasbut to look at it closer"--and he held it nearer to the greedy corkscreweyes--"to see that it is a rare specimen, more perfect than often seenin museums. I brought up this shell myself, with care choosing it; itsprice is five dollars. "

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

"Five cents would be nearer it!" he cried, angrily. "Think we're allfools down here, hey? Go 'long with your five dollars. "

"No, Señor, not all fools!" said the Skipper. "Many varieties among men, as among shells. I am in no haste to sell the Voluta Musica. It has itsprice, as gentleman knows by his catalogue. Here is a razor-shell;perhaps the gentleman like that. Shave yourself or other people withthis!"

"I want to know!" interposed Mrs. Isaac Cutter, leaning forward eagerly, spectacles on nose. "Can folks really shave with those, sir? They dolook sharp, now, don't they? What might you ask for a pair?"

"Perhaps not very easy to grind, lady!" replied the Skipper, with asmile which won Mrs. Isaac's heart. "Not a rare shell, only fifty centsthe pair. Thank you, madam! To show you this? With gladness! This is theBleeding Tooth shell, found in plenty in West Indies. They have alsodentists under the sea, graciously observe. See here, --the whole family!The baby, he have as yet no tooth, the little gum smooth and white. Here, the boy! (_Como ti_, Juan Colorado!" this in a swift aside, caughtonly by John's ear. ) "The boy, he have a tooth pulled, you observe, madam; here the empty space, with blood-mark, thus. Hence the name, Bleeding Tooth. Here the father, getting old, has lost two teeth, bleeding much; and this being the old grandfather, all teeth are gone, again. Yes, curious family! You kindly accept these persons, madam, with a wish that you never suffer of this manner. "

Mrs. Isaac Cutter drew a long breath, and took the shells with a look ofdelighted awe. "Well, I'm sure!" she said, "you're more than kind, sir. I never thought--I do declare--Bleeding Tooth! Well, father, if thatisn't something to tell the folks at home!" Mr. Isaac Cutter grunted, well pleased, and said, "That so!" several times, his vocabulary beinglimited. 

"Again, here, " the Skipper continued, with a glance around, to make surethat his audience was attentive, "again, here a curious thing, ladiesand gentlemen. The Nighthawk shell, not common in any part of the world. The two halves held together of this manner, behold the nighthawk, as heflies through the air!"

A murmur of delight ran through the little group, and Mr. EndymionScraper edged to the front, his fingers twitching convulsively. 

"How much--how much do you want for that Nighthawk?" he asked, stammering with eagerness. "'Taint wuth much, but--what--ten dollars?I'll give ye three, and not a cent more. "

But the Skipper put him aside with a wave of his hand. 

"Another time, sir, " he said; "at future interview I will makearrangements with you, and hope to satisfy; at present I instruct theseladies a little in life under the sea. 

"Lady, " he said, and it was observable that although he spoke to Mrs. Isaac Cutter, his eyes rested on Lena, and on the boy John, who stoodbehind her, "Nature of her abundance is very generous to the sea. Hereall fishes swim, great and small; but more! All things that on earthfind their place, of them you find a picture, copy, what you please tocall it, at the bottom of the sea. A few only are yet found by men, yetstrange things also have I seen. Not under the ocean do you think tofind violets growing, is it so? yet here you observe a handful ofviolets, in colour as on a green bank, though without perfume, thesunshine wanting in those places. "

He drew from a box some of the exquisite little violet snail-shells, andgave them to Lena, who cried out with delight, and instantly resolved tohave a pair of ear-rings made of them. 

"The ladies are hungry?" the quiet voice went on. "They desirebreakfast? I offer them a poached egg, grown under the sea. The colourand shape perfect; the water ladies eat them every morning, but with theair they grow hard and lose their flavour. Thank you, madam! for thirtycents only, the poached egg, not a rare variety. Your smile perhaps willmake it soft again. I hope you enjoy it at luncheon. 

"But before luncheon you desire to prepare your charming toilet? Here Ioffer you a comb, ladies, as they use under the sea. The story, thatVenus, goddess of beauty, when she rose from the ocean, dropped from herhand the comb with which she arranged even then her locks of gold: hencethe name, Venus's Comb. Observe the long teeth, necessary for fine hair, like that of Venus and these ladies. "

Mrs. Isaac Cutter bridled, smoothed her "fluffy Fedora" (price onedollar and fifty cents, ready curled), and bought the "comb" on thespot. 

"Of little boys under the sea, " the Skipper continued, --and once morehis smile fell on the boy John, and produced that agreeable sensation ofwarmth about the heart to which the little fellow had been longunaccustomed, --"there are many. They swim about, they play, they sport, they go to school, as little boys here. They ride, some persons havetold me, on the horse-mackerel, but of that I have no knowledge. I seefor myself, however, that they play tops, the small sea-boys. Here, little gentleman, is the Imperial Top, --very beautiful shell. You liketo take it in your hand?"

John took the splendid thing, and straightway lost himself and the worldin a dream of rapture, in which he descended to the depths that his souldesired, and played at spinning tops with the sea-boys, and rode ahorse-mackerel, and did many other wonderful things. 

"The bat shell!" the Skipper went on, lifting one treasure and thenanother. "The Voluta Aulica, extremely rare, --the Mitres, worn bybishops under the sea. The bishops must be chosen very small, lady, tofit the shell, since shells were made first. The Queen Conch! Thisagain, --pardon me, gentleman, you desire to assist me? Too kind, but Ishall not give that trouble to a visitor!"

The last remark was addressed to Mr. Endymion Scraper, who had for thelast five minutes been sidling quietly, and as he thought unobserved, toward the shelf on which lay the Voluta Musica. His claw-like fingers, after hovering over the prize, had finally closed upon it, and he wasabout to slip it into his pocket without more ado, when a strong brownhand descended upon his wrist. The shell was quietly taken from him, andlooking up in impotent rage, he met the dark eyes of the Skipper gazingat him with cheerful gravity. 

"Price five dollars!" he murmured, courteously. "In a box, gentleman?But, certainly! A valuable specimen. Thank you kindly. Five-dollar bill, quite right! Exhibition is over for this morning, ladies and gentlemen, to resume in afternoon hours, if graciously pleased to honour the shellschooner, --schooner 'Nautilus, ' from the Bahamas, with remarkablecollection of marine curiosities. "

CHAPTER IV. 

ABOARD THE "NAUTILUS. "

The shell schooner had many visitors during the next few days, as shelay by the wharf; visitors, of whom a few came to buy, but by far thegreater part to look and gossip, and see the monkeys, and ask questions. The monkeys, Jack and Jim, were no small part of the attraction, beingdelightful little beasts, bright of eye and friendly of heart, alwaysready to turn a somersault, or to run up the mast, or to make a bow tothe ladies (always with Franci in their hearts), as the Skipper directedthem. 

Of course John was there at every available minute, whenever he couldescape the searching of his guardian's eye and tongue; but Mr. Scraperhimself came several times to the "Nautilus;" so did pretty Lena Brown. There was no doubt that Lena was a charming girl. She looked likemoonlight, Rento thought; John thought so, too, though he knew that theresemblance went no further than looks. Her hair was soft and light, with a silvery glint when the sun struck it, and it had a pretty trickof falling down about her forehead in two Madonna-like bands, framingthe soft, rose-tinted cheeks sweetly enough, and hiding with the paleshining tresses the narrowness of the white forehead. 

Lena was apt to come with John, to whom she was always kind, though shethought him "cracked, " and after a little desultory hovering about theshells, for which she did not really care, except when they were made upwith glass beads, she was apt to sit down on the after-deck, with Johnbeside her (unless the Skipper appeared, in which case the boy flew tojoin his new friend), and with Franci, or Rento, or both, sure to benear by. The monkeys never failed to come and nestle down beside theboy, and examine his pockets and chatter confidentially in his ear; andJohn always nodded and seemed to understand, which Lena consideredfoolishness. She thought she came out of pure kindness for the boy, because "that old gimlet never would let him come alone, and the childwas fairly possessed about the shells;" but it is to be doubted whethershe would have come so often if it had not been for Franci's admiringglances and Rento's deeper veneration, which seldom dared to look higherthan the hem of her gown. 

She would sit very demurely on the after-deck, apparently absorbed inthe shells and corals that lay spread before her; and by-and-by, itmight be, Franci, who did not suffer from shyness, would venture onsomething more definite than admiring glances. 

He would show her the shells, making the most of his knowledge, whichwas not extensive, and calling in invention when information failed; buthe liked better to talk of himself, Franci, and on that subject therewas plenty to be said. He was a prince, he told Lena, in South America, where he came from. This was a poor country, miserable country; but inhis own the houses were all of marble, pink marble, with mahoganydoor-steps. 

"Is that so?" Lena would say, raising her limpid eyes to the darkvelvety ones that were bent so softly on her. 

"Oh, fine! fine!" said Franci. "Never I eat from a china dish in mycountry; silver, all silver! Only the pigs eat from china. Drink wine, eat peaches and ice-cream all days, all time. My sister wear goldclothes, trimmed diamonds, when she do her washing. Yes! Like to gothere?" and he bent over Lena with an enchanting smile. 

"Why do you tell such lies?" asked John, whom Franci had not observed, as he was lying in one of the schooner's boats, with a monkey on eitherarm. Franci's smile deepened as he turned toward the boy, swearingsoftly in Spanish, and feeling in his breast; but at that moment Rentohappened to stroll that way, blushing deeply at Lena's nearness, yetwith a warlike expression in his bright blue eyes. Franci told him hewas the son of a pig that had died of the plague, and that he, Franci, devoutly hoped the son would share the fate of his mother, without timeto consult a priest. Rento replied that he could jaw as much as he was amind to, so long as he let the boy alone; and Lena looked from one tothe other with a flush on her pretty cheek, and an instinct that madeher heart beat a little faster. 

Mr. Scraper's visits were apt to be made in the evening; his passion forshells was like that for drink, and he would fain have hidden it fromthe eyes of his neighbours. It was always a trial to Franci to knowthat the old miser, as he called Mr. Endymion, was in the cabin, andthat he, Franci, must keep watch on deck while this withered anatomy saton the cabin chairs and drank with the Patron. Franci's way of keepingwatch was to lie at full length on the deck with his feet in the air, smoking cigarettes. It was not the regulation way, but Franci did notcare for that. That beast of a Rento was asleep, snoring like a pig thathe was, while his betters must keep awake and gaze at this desolatingprospect; the Patron was in the cabin with the miser, and no one thoughtof the individual who alone gave charm to the schooner. He, Franci, would make himself as comfortable as might be, and would not care a puffof his cigar if the schooner and all that were in it, except himself, should go to the bottom the next minute. No! Rather would he dance forjoy, and wave his hand, and cry, "Good voyage, Patron! Good voyage, brute of a pig-faced Rento! Good voyage, old 'Nautilus!' Go all to thebottom with my blessing, and I dance on the wharf, and marry the prettyLena, and get all the old miser's money, and wear velvet coats. Ah!Franci, my handsome little boy, why did you let them send you to sea, hearts of stone that they were! You, born to shine, to adorn, to breakthe hearts of maidens! Why? tell me that!" He waved his legs in the air, and contemplated with delight their proportions, which were certainlyexquisite. "Caramba!" he murmured; "beauty, that is it! Otherwise onemight better be a swine, --yes, truly!"

At this point, perhaps, Rento appeared, rubbing his eyes, evidentlyjust awake, and ready to take his watch; whereupon the beautiful one satup, and, fixing his eyes on his fellow-seaman, executed a series ofgrimaces which did great credit to his invention and power of facialexpression. Then he delivered himself of an harangue in purest Spanish, to the effect that the day was not far distant when he, Franci, wouldslit Rento's nose with a knife, and carve his initials on his cheeks, and finally run him through the so detestable body and give him to thefish to devour, though with strong fears of his disagreeing with them. To which Rento replied that he might try it just as soon as he was amind to, but that at this present moment he was to get out; which thebeautiful youth accordingly did, retiring with a dancing step, expressive of scorn and disgust. 

On one such night as this the scene in the little cabin was a curiousone. A lamp burned brightly on the table, and its lights shone on anumber of objects, some lying openly on the green table-cover, somereclining superbly in velvet-lined cases. Shells! Yes, but not suchshells as were heaped in profusion on shelf and counter. Those werelovely, indeed, and some of them of considerable value; but it was afortune, no less, that lay now spread before the eyes of the Skipper andhis guest. For these were the days when fine shells could not be boughton every hand, as they can to-day; when a good specimen of the ImperialHarp brought two hundred and fifty dollars easily, and when a collectorwould give anything, even to the half of his kingdom (if he were acollector of the right sort), for a Precious Wentletrap. 

[Illustration]

It was a Wentletrap on which the little red eyes of Mr. EndymionScraper were fixed at this moment. The morocco case in which it lay waslined with crimson velvet, and the wonderful shell shone purely whiteagainst the glowing colour, --snow upon ice; for the body of the shellwas semi-transparent, the denser substance of the spiral whorls turningthem to heavy snow against the shining clearness beneath them. Has anyof my readers seen a Precious Wentletrap? Then he knows one of the mostbeautiful things that God has made. 

Apparently the Skipper had just opened the case, for Mr. Scraper wassitting with his mouth wide open, staring at it with greedy, almostfrightened eyes. Truly, a perfect specimen of this shell was, in thosedays, a thing seen only in kings' cabinets; yet no flaw appeared inthis, no blot upon its perfect beauty. The old miser sat and stared, andonly his hands, which clutched the table-cloth in a convulsive grasp, and his greedy eyes, showed that he was not turned to stone. He had beenamazed enough by the other treasures, as the Skipper had taken them oneby one from the iron safe in the corner, whose door now hung idly open. Where had been seen such Pheasants as these, --the fragile, theexquisite, the rarely perfect? Even the Australian Pheasant, rarest ofall, lay here before him, with its marvellous pencillings of rose andcarmine and gray. Mr. Endymion's mouth had watered at the meredescription of the shell in the catalogue, but he had never thought tosee one, except the imperfect specimen in the museum at Havenborough. Here, too, was the Orange Cowry; here the Bishop's Mitre, and theprecious Voluta Aulica; while yonder, --what was this man, that he shouldhave a Voluta Junonia, of which only a few specimens are possessed inthe known world? What did it all mean?

The Skipper sat beside the table, quiet and self-contained as usual. Hisarm lay on the table, his hand was never far from the more preciousshells, and his eyes did not leave the old man's face; but he showed nosign of uneasiness. Why should he, when he could have lifted Mr. Endymion with his left hand and set him at any minute at the top of thecabin stairs? Now and then he took up a shell with apparent carelessness(though in reality he handled them with fingers as fine as a woman's, knowing their every tenderest part, and where they might best beapproached without offence to their delicacy), looked it over, and madesome remark about its quality or value; but for the most part he wassilent, letting the shells speak for themselves and make their owneffect. 

The old man had been wheezing and grunting painfully for some minutes, opening and shutting his hands, and actually scratching the table-clothin his distress. At length he broke out, after a long silence. 

"Who are ye, I want to know? How come you by these shells? I knowsomething about what they're wuth--that is--well, I know they aint wuthwhat you say they are, well enough; but they air wuth a good deal, --Iknow that. What I want to understand is, what you're after here! What doyou want, and why do you show me these things if--if--you come by themhonestly. Hey?"

The Skipper smiled meditatively. "Yes!" he said, "we all like to knowthings, --part of our nature, sir--part of our nature. I, now, I like toknow things, too. What you going to do with that boy, Mr. Scrape? I liketo know that. You tell me, and perhaps you hear something about theshells, who know?"

The old man's face darkened into a very ugly look. 

"My name is Scraper, thank ye, not Scrape!" he said, dryly; "and as forthe boy, I don't know exactly where you come in there. "

The Skipper nodded. "True!" he said, tracing with his finger the finelines of the Voluta Aulica; "you do not know where I come in there. Inus both, knowledge has a limit, Mr. Scraper; yet I at the least amacquaint with your name. It is a fine name you have there, --Endymion!You should be a person of poetry, with this and your love for shells, hein? You love, without doubt, to gaze on the moon, Sir Scraper? Youfeel with her a connection, yes?"

"What the dickens are you talking about?" asked the old gentleman, testily. "How much do you want to swindle me out of for this Junonia, hey? not that I 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. At least, so it would have appeared toan ordinary observer; in reality he was carrying on a sanguinary combat, and dealing death on every side. His name was George Washington, and hewas at Bunker Hill (where he certainly had no business to be), and theBritish were intrenched behind the cabbages. "They've just got down intothe ground, they are so frightened!" he said to himself, pausing tostraighten his aching back, and toss the red curls out of his eyes. "See'em, all scrooched down, with their feet in the earth, trying to makebelieve they grow there! But I'll have 'em out! Whack! there goes thegeneral. Come out, I say!" He wrestled fiercely with an enormousBritisher, disguised as a stalk of pig-weed, and, after a breathlesstussle, dragged him bodily out of the ground, and flung his headlesscorpse on the neighbouring pile of weeds. 

"Ha! that was fine!" cried the boy. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised ifthat was George the Third himself; it was ugly enough for him. Come uphere! hi! down with you! Now Jack the Giant-Killer is coming to help me, and the British have got Cormoran (this was before Jack killed him), andthere's going to be a terrible row. " But General Washington waves hisgallant sword, and calls to his men, and says, --

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

It was not General Washington who spoke. It was the Skipper, and he wasleaning on the gate and looking at the boy John and smiling. "You make abusy day, " he repeated. "I think there are soon no more weeds in SirScraper's garden. "

"Oh, yes!" cried John, straightening himself again, and leaning on histrusty hoe. "There'll be just as many--I beg your pardon! Good morning!I hope you are well; it is a very fine day. There'll be just as many ofthem to-morrow, or next day, certainly. I make believe they are theBritish, you see, and I've been fighting all the morning, and I do thinkthey are pretty well licked by this time; but they don't stay licked, the British don't. I like them for that, don't you? Even though it is abother to go on fighting all the days of one's life. "

"I also have noticed that of the British!" the Skipper said, noddinggravely. "But now you can rest a little, Juan Colorado? Sir Scraper isat home, that you call him for me, say I desire to make him the visit?"

"No, he isn't at home, " said John. "He's gone down to the store for hismail. But please come in and wait, and he'll be back soon. Do come in!It--it's cool to rest, after walking in the sun. "

It was the only inducement the child could think of, but he offered itwith right good-will. The Skipper assented with a smile and a nod, andthe two passed into the house together. 

In the kitchen, which was the living-room of the house, John halted, and brought a chair for his visitor, and prepared to play the host aswell as he could; but the visitor seemed, for some reason, not to fancythe kitchen. He looked around with keen, searching eyes, scanning everynook and corner in the bare little room. Truly, there was not much tosee. The old fireplace had been blocked up, and in its place was theusual iron cooking-stove, with a meagre array of pots and pans hangingbehind it. The floor was bare; the furniture, a table and chair, with astool for John. There was no provision for guests; but that did notmatter, as Mr. Scraper never had guests. Altogether, there was littleattraction in the kitchen, and the Skipper seemed curiously displeasedwith its aspect. 

"There is no other room?" he asked, after completing his survey. "Nobetter room than this, Colorado? Surely, there must be one other; yes, of course!" he added, as if struck by a sudden thought. "His shells? Mr. Scraper has shells. They are--where?"

He paused and looked sharply at the boy. Little John coloured high. "The--the shells?" he stammered. "Yes, of course, sir, the shells are inanother room, in the parlour; but--but--I am not let go in there, unlessMr. Scraper sends me. "

"So!" said the dark man; "but for me, Colorado, how is it for me? Mr. Scraper never said to me that I must not go in this parlour, you see. For you it is well, you do as you are told; you are a boy that makeshimself to trust; for me, I am a Skipper from the Bahamas, I do somethings that are strange to you, --among them, this. I go into theparlour. "

He nodded lightly, and leaving the child open-mouthed in amazement, opened the sacred door, the door of the best parlour, and went in, asunconcernedly as if it were his own cabin. John, standing at thedoor, --he surely might go as far as the door, if he did not step overthe threshold, --watched him, and his eyes grew wider and wider, and hisbreath came quicker and quicker. 

For the Skipper was doing strange things, as he had threatened. Advancing quickly into the middle of the room, he cast around him thesame searching glance with which he had scanned the kitchen. He went tothe window, and threw back the blinds. The sunlight streamed in, as ifit, too, were eager to see what shrouded treasures were kept secludedhere. Probably the blinds had not been thrown back since Gran'therScraper died. 

The parlour was scarcely less grim than the kitchen, though there was adifference in its grimness. Seven chairs stood against the wall, likeseven policemen with their hands behind their backs; a table crouched inthe middle, its legs bent as if to spring. The boy John considered thetable a monster, transformed by magic into its present shape, and likelyto be released at any moment, and to leap at the unwary intruder. Itsfaded cover, with two ancient ink-blots which answered for eyes, fostered this idea, which was a disquieting one. On the wall hung twosilver coffin-plates in a glass case, testifying that Freeborn Scraper, and Elmira his wife, had been duly buried, and that their coffins hadpresented a good appearance at the funeral. But the glory of the room, in the boy John's eyes, was the cabinet of shells which stood againstthe opposite wall. He had once thought this the chief ornament of theworld; he knew better now, but still he regarded its treasures with aweand veneration, and looked to see the expression of delight which shouldoverspread the features of his new friend at sight of it. What, then, was his amazement to see his new friend pass over the cabinet with acareless glance, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world!Evidently, it was not shells that he had come to see; and the boy grewmore and more mystified. Suddenly the dark eyes lightened; the wholeface flashed into keen attention. What had the Skipper seen? Nothing, apparently, but the cupboard in the corner, the old cupboard where Mr. Scraper kept his medicines. The old man had sent John to this cupboardonce, when he himself was crippled with rheumatism, to fetch him abottle of the favourite remedy of the day. John remembered its inwardaspect, with rows of dusty bottles, and on the upper shelf, rows ofstill more dusty papers. What could the Skipper see to interest him inthe corner cupboard? Something, certainly! For now he was opening thecupboard, quietly, as if he knew all about it and was looking forsomething that he knew to be there. 

"Ah!" said the Skipper; and he drew a long breath, as of relief. "True, the words! In the corner of the parlour, a cupboard of three corners, with bottles filled, and over the bottles, papers. Behold the cupboard, the bottles, the papers! A day of fortunes!" He bent forward, andproceeded to rummage in the depths of the cupboard; but this was toomuch 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 the cupboard for an instant, and his eyes werevery bright. "Yes, Colorado, " he said. "I think I ought to do this! Oh, very much indeed, my friend, I ought to do this! And here, "--he steppedback, holding something in his hand, --"here, it is done! No moredisturbance, Colorado; I thank you for your countenance. 

"Do we now make a promenade in the garden, to see your work?

"Yet, " he added, pausing and again looking around him, "but yet oncemore I observe. This room, "--it was strange, he did not seem to like theparlour any better than he had liked the kitchen--"this room, to livein! a young person, figure it, Colorado! gentle, with desires, withdreams of beauty, and this only to behold! For companion an ancientonion, --I say things that are improper, my son! I demand pardon! But fora young person, a maiden to live here, would be sad indeed, do you thinkit?"

John pondered, in wonder and some trouble of mind. There was somethingthat he had to say, something very hard; but it would not be polite justnow, and he must answer a question when he was asked. "I--I thought itwas a fine room!" he said at length, timidly. "It isn't as bright, somehow, as where I used to live with my mother, and--it seems to stayshut up, even when it isn't; but--I guess it's a fine room, sir; andthen, 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 merry laugh; "out of doors is nevershut up, praise be to Heaven!" He pulled off his cap, and looked up atthe shining sky. They were standing on the door-step now, and Johnnoticed that his companion seemed much less grave than usual. Helaughed, he patted the boy on the shoulder, he hummed snatches ofstrange, sweet melodies. Once or twice he broke out into speech, but itwas foreign speech, and John knew nothing save that it was somethingcheerful. They walked about the garden, and the Skipper surveyed John'swork, and pronounced it prodigious. He questioned the child closely, too, as to how he lived, and what he did, and why he stayed with Mr. Scraper. But the child could tell him little. He supposed it was allright; his mother was dead, and there was nobody else, and Mr. Scrapersaid he was his father's uncle, and that the latter had appointed himguardian over John in case of the mother's death. That was all, heguessed. 

"All, my faith!" cried the Skipper, gayly. "Enough, too, Colorado! quiteenough, in the opinion of me. But I go, my son! Till a little while; youwill come to-day to the 'Nautilus, ' yes?"

But little John stood still in the path, and looked up in his friend'sface. The time had come when he must do the hard thing, and it washarder even than he had thought it would be. His throat was very dry, and he tried once or twice before the words would come. At last--"I begyour pardon!" he said. "I am only a little boy, and perhaps there issomething I don't understand; but--but--I don't think you ought to havedone that!"

"Done what, son of mine?" asked the Skipper, gazing down at him with thebright, kind eyes that he loved, and that would not be kind the nextmoment, perhaps. "What is it I have done?"

"To take the papers!" said John; and now his voice was steady, and heknew quite well what he must say, if only his heart would not beat soloud in his ears! "I don't think it was right; but perhaps you knowthings that make it right for you. But--but Mr. Scraper left me here, totake care of the house, and--and I shall have to tell him that you wentinto the parlour and took things out of the cupboard. "

There was silence for a moment, --silence, all but the throbbing thatseemed as if it must deafen the child, as it was choking him. He stoodlooking at the ground, his face in a flame, his eyes full of hot, smarting tears. Was it he who had stolen the papers? Surely anyone wouldhave thought so who saw his anguish of confusion. And the Skipper didnot speak! And this was his friend, the first heart-friend the child hadever had, perhaps the only one that would ever come to him, and he wasaffronting him, casting him off, accusing him of vileness! Unable tobear the pain any longer, the child looked up at last, and as he did so, the tears overflowed and ran down his round cheeks. The dark eyes wereas kind as ever. They were smiling, oh, so tenderly! John hid his faceon his blue sleeve, and sobbed to his heart's content; somehow, withouta word, the dreadful pain was gone, and the blessed feeling had returnedthat this friend knew all about things, and understood little boys, andliked them. 

The Skipper did not speak for a moment, only stood and stroked the boy'scurly hair with a light, soft touch, almost as his mother used to strokeit. Then he said, in his deep, grave voice, that was sweeter than music, John thought. 

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

"And that hurt you to say, my little son?" he said, smiling. "That hurtyou, because you thought it would vex the friend from the Bahamas, thefriend who steals. And yet you like him a little, is it not?"

"Oh!" cried John, looking up with all his heart in his blue eyes; and noother word was needed. 

"See, then!" the Skipper went on, still holding the boy's hand; "it isthat you are right, Colorado, oh, very right, my son! and I, who am old, but old enough to be twice to you a father, I thought not of this. Yes, you must tell Sir Scraper, if--if I do not tell him first. " He wassilent a moment, thinking; and then continued, speaking slowly, choosinghis words with care: "Is it that you think, Colorado, it would be wrongto wait a little before you tell Sir Scraper--if I said, tillto-morrow? If I ask you to wait, and then, if I have not told him, youshall tell him, --what do you say of that, my son?"

John looked helplessly around, his blue eyes growing big and wistfulagain. "If--if he should ask me!" he said. "I am sure you know all aboutit, and that it is all right for you, but if he should ask me--yousee--I--I should have to answer him, shouldn't I?"

"You would have to answer him!" the Skipper repeated, frowningthoughtfully. "And you could not tell him that there were flying-fish inthe cabin, eh, Colorado? Wait then, that your friend thinks. The mindmoves at times slowly, my son, slowly!"

He was silent, and John watched him, breathless. 

Presently, "Will you come with me, Colorado?" asked the Skipper. "Iinvite you to come, to spend the day on the 'Nautilus, ' to play withJack and Jim, to polish the shells, --what you please. I desire notlonger to wait here, I desire not that yet Sir Scraper know of my visit. Had he been here, other happenings might have been; as it is--shortly, will you come with me, Colorado?"

John shut his eyes tight, and took possession of his soul. 

"I promised!" he said, "I promised him that if he would not whip me thismorning I would not stir off the place. He was mad because I wentyesterday, and he was going to give me a good one this morning, and Ihadn't got over the last good one, and so--I promised that! But if I hadknown you were coming, " he cried, "I would not have promised, and Iwould have taken three good ones, if I could only go. "

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

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

John nodded, wondering. 

"Of Malay pirates?" the Skipper continued, with animation. "They arewild fellows, those! They come, they see a person, they carry him off, to keep at their fancy, till a ransom is paid, or till he grow old anddie, or till they kill him the next day, who knows? But not all are badfellows, and there are some of them who are kind to captives, who takethem on board their ships, play with them, show to them strange things, shells and fish and corals, all things. Have you ever played at pirate, Colorado?"

"Yes, sometimes, " the boy admitted, wondering still more at thebrightness in his friend's look, and his air of sudden determination. 

"I never played Malay, only Portugee; I thought they weren't so cruel, but I don't know. I had a ship down by the wharf, and I made a good manypirate voyages round the wharf, and sometimes quite a piece down river, when I could get the time. But then, after a while, I thought it wasnicer to be a rescuing ship, and get folks away from the pirates, youknow, so I've done that lately, and I've rescued as many as twentyvessels, 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 toyou--I am a Malay pirate!"

The boy started violently and looked up, expecting he knew not whatsudden and awful change in the face that bent down over him; but no! itwas the same quiet, dark face, only there was a bright gleam in theeyes. A gleam of fun, was it? Surely not of ferocity. 

"I come up this river, " the Skipper continued, rapidly, "to see what Ifind, --perhaps gold, perhaps silver, perhaps prisoners of value. I lookabout, I see the pleasant village, I see persons very amiable, but noprecious thing except one; that one, I have it! I am a Malay pirate, Colorado, and thus I carry off my prize!" and picking up the child as ifhe were a feather, and tossing him up to his shoulder, the Skipperstrode from the garden, and took his way toward the wharf. 

CHAPTER VI. 

MR. BILL HEN. 

Mr. Bill Hen Pike had come to have a good long gossip. It was some timesince a schooner had come up the river, for the ice-shipping had not yetbegun, and he was fairly thirsting for maritime intelligence. He desiredto know the tonnage of the "Nautilus, " her age, where she was built, andby whom; her original cost, and what sums had been expended in repairssince she had been in the Skipper's possession; how many trips she hadmade, to what ports, and with what cargoes; the weather that had beenencountered on each and every trip. These things and many more of likeimport did the Skipper unfold, sitting at ease on the cabin table, whileMr. Bill Hen tilted the only chair in rhythmic content. His hat wastilted, too; his broad red face shone with pleasure; the world was agood place to him, full of information. 

At last the questions came to an end; it seemed a pity, but there wasreally nothing left to ask, since it appeared that the Skipper wasunmarried and had no relations. But now the Skipper's own turn had come, and quietly, with just enough show of interest to be polite, he beganthe return game. "You have been at sea a large part of your life, SeñorPike?"

"Oh, yes! yes! I'm well used to the sea. That is--off and on, you know, off and on. I was mate on a coasting schooner, saw a good deal that way, you know; like the sea first-rate, but my wife, she won't hear to mygoing off nowadays, and there's the farm to 'tend to, stock and hay, var'ous things, var'ous things; all about it, my sea-going days areover, yes, yes! Pleasant place, though, pleasant place, though thestrength going out of my legs makes it troublesome by times, yes, yes!Been in these parts before, you said? Oh, no! said you hadn't; beg yourpardon! Pleasant part of the country! good soil, good neighbours. "

"Fine country, I should suppose!" said the Skipper; "and as you say, sir, the persons agreeable for knowledge. You know the boy whom I hearcalled John, with the old gentleman who collects shells?"

"Oh! ho!" said Mr. Bill Hen, delighted to find a fresh subject ofinterest. "Deacon Scraper, yes, yes! well named, sir, Deacon Scraper is, well named, you see! Very close man, pizeon close they do say. Livedhere all his life, Deacon Scraper has, and made a fortune. Scraped it, some say, out of folks as weren't so well off as he, but I don't know. Keen after shells, the old gentleman, yes, yes! like liquor to him, I'veheard say. Never a man to drink or what you might call royster, no wayof the world but just that; but get him off to Boston, or any placewhere there were shells to be bought, and he'd come home fairly drunkwith 'em, his trunk busting out and all his money gone. Seems cur'ous, too, for such an old rip as Dym Scraper, _to_ care for such things; butwe're made sing'lar, --one one way, and 'nother one t'other. That's so, I reckon, in your part of the world as well 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 hearcalled John, --he is of near blood to this old gentleman, yes?"

But here Mr. Bill Hen grew redder in the face, which was a difficultfeat, and smote the cabin table. 

"Burning shame it is about that youngster!" he declared. "Burning shame, if ever there was one in this mortal world. How some folks can set byand see things going on _as_ they're going on, beats me, and le' me sayI'm hard to beat. That child, sir, is an orphan; got no father normother, let alone grandf'ther or grandm'ther, in the land of the living. His father was some kind of a natural, I guess, or else he hadn't knownDeacon Scraper by sight or hearing; but when he dies what does he do butleave that old--old--beetle-bug guardeen of that child, case of hismother dyin'. Well, if I'd ha' had children, I might leave 'em to a foxfor guardeen, or I might leave 'em to a horned pout, whichever I was amind to, but I wouldn't leave 'em to Dym Scraper, and you can chalk thatup on the door any ways you like. " The good man paused, and puffed andsnorted for some minutes in silence. The Skipper waited, his dark facequietly attentive, his eyes very bright. 

"Near blood?" Mr. Bill Hen broke out again, with another blow on thetable. "No, he aint so dretful near blood, if you come to that. Near asthe child's got, though, seemin'ly. His father, Johnny's father, was sonto Freeborn Scraper, the Deacon's twin brother. Twins they was, thoughno more alike than pork and peas. Them two, and Zenoby, the sister, whomarried off with a furriner and was never heerd of again; but she ain'tin the story, though some say she was her father's favourite, and thatDym gave her no peace, after Freeborn left, till he got rid of her. Allabout it, Freeborn went West young, and spent his days there; livedcomfortable, and left means when he died. Dym Scraper, he went out tothe funeral, and run it, we heerd, Freeborn's wife being dead and hisson weakly; anyway, he brung back them two silver coffin-plates thathangs in the parlour to his house. Next thing we knew--good while after, y' understand, but first thing _we_ knew, here to the village--the sonwas dead, too; Mahlon his name was, and had been weakly all his days. Deacon Scraper went out agin, and kinder scraped round, folks reckoned, 'peared to make of the young widder, and meeched up to her, and all. Wal! And here this last year, if _she_ doesn't up and die! Sing'lar giftfolks has for dying out in them parts; living so fur from the sea, I'vealways cal'lated. All about it, that old spider goes out the third time, and no coffin-plates this time, but he brings back the boy; and lo, ye!he's made full guardeen over the child, and has him, body and soul. 

"Now I aint a malicious man, no way of the world, Mister, --well, whatever your name is. But I tell you, that old weasel is laying forsomething ugly about that youngster. Some say he's applied to send himto the Reform School; good little boy as I'd want to see. I believeit's so. Don't tell me! He's got money, that child has, or land, and DymScraper means to have it. The child's got no one in the world to lookto, and folks about here are so skeered of Deacon Scraper that they'llset by, I believe, and see a thing like that done before their eyes. Itell ye what, sir, I'm a church-member, and I don't want to say nothingbut what's right and proper; but if there was a prophet anyways handy inthese times (and a mighty good thing to have round, too), there'd befire and brimstun called, down on Dym Scraper, and the hull villagewould turn out to see him get it, too!"

"But you, sir!" said the Skipper, who had his knife out now, and wascarving strange things on the table, as was his manner when moved. "Youwill not permit such a thing, a person of heart as you have the air tobe? No, you will not permit that a thing enormous take place at yourside?"

Mr. Bill Hen's face grew purple; he drew 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 know something of life, but there's a sightyou don't know yet. See?"

Again there was silence, the Skipper gazing darkly at his carven runes, Mr. Bill Hen still puffing and wiping his brow. 

"Yes, there's a sight you don't know about, " he said again. "My wife, you see, she's a good woman, there's no better woman round; but she'smasterful, sir, she's masterful, and I'm a man who's always led a quietlife and desire peace. And there's more behind; though why on the airthI'm telling you all this is more than I can tell!"

The last words came with a peevish outburst, and he hesitated, as ifminded to say no more; but the Skipper raised his head, and the darkeyes sent out a compelling glance. The weaker man faltered, gave way, and resumed his speech. 

"She's a masterful woman, I tell ye! She thinks Deacon Scraper is adangerous man, and there aint nobody here but what'll agree with herthat far. Then--he--he's got a mortgage on my farm, same as he has onothers, --plenty of others as is better clothed with means than ever I'vebeen; and, all about it, my wife aint willing for us to make an enemy ofthe old man. That's where the land lays, and you can see for yourself. Plenty in the village is fixed the same way; he's got power, that oldgrape-skin has, power over better men than he. We don't want to see thatchild put upon, but we aint no blood to him, and there aint anybody butfeels that he himself aint just the one to interfere. That's the way mywife feels, and I, --well, there now! you're a stranger, and I may neverset eyes on you again; but I take to you, somehow, and I don't mindtelling you that I feel as mean as dirt whenever I think of that lamb inthat old fox's den; mean as dirt I feel, and yet I aint got the spunkto--the strenth is gone out of my legs, " he added, piteously, "these tenyears back, and I think some of my sperrit went with it. That's whereit is! I haint got the sperrit to stand up against 'em. "

There was a long silence, and then the Skipper shut his knife with aclick, and rose from the table, holding out his hand. 

"You are a good man, Señor Pike, " he said. "I think no worse of you, andam glad to make the acquaintance. With regard to this child, I shallremind you, "--here he shook his head with a backward gesture in whichthere was something at once proud and humble. --"I shall remind you thatthere are powers very high, more high than of prophets; and that Godwill do the works as seems Him good. I may have the honour to wait uponyour distinguished lady at a future day; I think to be some days in thisplace, for purposes of selling my cargo, as well to take in wood andwater. Never before in these parts, it is for me of interest to observethe place and people. You will take a lemonade that Franci brings? Hola, Franci! This is Señor Pike, Franci, at all times to be admitted to theschooner. "

"Pleased to meet you!" said Mr. Bill Hen. 

"Servicio de Usted!" said Franci, who did not understand English exceptwhen he thought the speaker was likely to interest him; and they satdown to the lemonade. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE CAPTIVE. 

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

"Señor!" said Franci, putting his beautiful head over the rail. 

"Bring me here the child, hear thou!"

"Si, Señor, " said Franci. He went forward, and pulling aside a pile ofcanvas that lay carelessly heaped together in a corner of the deck, disclosed the boy John, curled up in a ball, with one monkey in hisarms, and the other sitting on his shoulder. 

"Here, you, Sir Schoolmaster, the Patron ask for you. I give you my handto hellup you up! I like to put a knife in you!" he added in Spanish, with an adorable smile. 

"You'd get one into yourself before you had time!" said Rento, gettingup from the spot where his length had been coiled, and speaking with aslow drawl that lent emphasis to the words. "You ever lay a hand on thatboy, and it's the last you lay on anybody, --understand that?"

"Oh, yays!" said Franci, gently, as he pulled John out of the tangle ofcanvas and ropes. "But I am 'most killed all my life with looking atyour ugly face, you old she monkey! A little more killing make not muchdifference to me. "

Rento advanced toward him with uplifted hand, and the agile Spaniardslipped round the mast and disappeared. 

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

"Nothin', nothin' at all, " Rento said, quietly. "He was givin' me sometalk, that was all. It's all he has to give, seemin'ly; kind o' foolperson he is, Franci; don't ye take no heed what he says. There, go'long, youngster! the Skipper's lookin' for ye. "

At this moment the Skipper's head appeared over the rail, and Johnbecame quite sure that he was awake. Dreams were so curious, sometimes, one never knew what would happen in them; and this whole matter ofpiracy had been so strange and unlooked for that all the while he hadbeen hidden under the sail (where he had retreated by the Skipper'sorders as soon as Mr. Bill Hen Pike appeared in the offing), he had beentrying to persuade himself that he was asleep, and that the monkeys weredream-monkeys, very lively ones, and that by-and-by he would wake uponce more and find himself in bed at Mr. Scraper's. 

But now there could be no more doubt! He could not dream Franci, nor thequeer things he said; he could not dream Rento, with his kind, ugly faceand drawling speech; least of all could he dream the Skipper, who wasnow looking at him with an amused smile. 

Certainly, he did not look in the least like a pirate! In the firstplace, Malay pirates did not wear anything, except a kind of shortpetticoat, and something that flew in the air behind them as they ran. For in the geography-book pictures a Malay was always running amuck, with a creese in his hand, and an expression of frantic rage on hiscountenance. How _could_ this be a Malay? Perhaps he might have been infun! But John was not much used to fun, and it seemed hardly likely thatso grave a person as the Skipper would play at pirate. On the whole, thelittle boy was sadly puzzled; and the Skipper's first words did not tendto allay his anxiety. 

"Ha! my prisoner!" he said. "That you come here, sir, and sit down by meon the rail. The evening falls, and we will sit here and observe thefairness of the night. Remark that I put no chains on you, Colorado, asin the Malay seas we put them! You can swim, yes?"

John nodded. "I swam across the river last week, " said he. "I was goingto--" He meant to say, "to rescue some people from pirates, " but nowthis did not seem polite; so he stopped short, but the Skipper took nonotice. 

"You swim? That is good!" he said. "But Sir Scraper, he cannot swim, Ithink, my son, so for you there is no rescue, since Rento has pulled inthe plank. Are you content, then, to be the captive of the 'Nautilus?'"

John looked up, still sorely puzzled; perhaps he was rather dull, thislittle boy John, about some things, though he was good at his books. Atany rate, there could be no possible doubt of the kindness in theSkipper's face; perhaps he was in fun, after all; and, anyhow, wherehad he ever been so happy as here since the good mother died? So heanswered with right good-will, --

"I like to stay here more than anywhere else in the world. If--if Ididn't think Mr. Scraper would be angry and frightened about me, and notknow where I was, I should like to stay on board all my life. "

"That is right!" said the Skipper, heartily. "That is the prisoner thatI like to have. I am not a cruel pirate, as some; I like to make happymy captives. Franci, lemonade, on the after-deck here!" He spoke inSpanish, and Franci replied in the same language, with a faint voiceexpressive of acute suffering. 

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

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

"Am I a dog, to fetch drink for this beggar brat?" was Franci's nextremark, in a more vigorous tone. "Was it for this that I left San Mateo?Rento is a pig, let him do the pig things. I go to my bed. "

He made a motion to go, but the Skipper reached out a long arm, and thenext moment the bold youth was dangling over the side of the vessel, clutching at the air, and crying aloud to all the saints in thecalendar. 

"Shall I let go?" asked the Skipper, in his quiet tone. 

"Ah! no, distinguished Patron!" cried Franci. "Let me not go! This wateris abominable. Release me, and I will get the lemonade. It is my wishthat you may both be drowned in it, but I will get it, --oh, yes, assuredly!"

He was set down, and vanished into the cabin; the Skipper, as if thiswere the most ordinary occurrence in the world, led the way to theafter-rail, and seated himself, motioning to John to take a place besidehim. 

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

"I think him slightly a fool, " was the reply, as the Skipper puffedleisurely at his cigar. "His parents, worthy people, desired him to be asailor, but that he can never be. The best sailor is one born for that, and for no other thing; also, a sailor can be made, though not of sofine quality; but of Franci, no. I return him after this voyage, withcompliments, and he sails no more in the 'Nautilus. ' And you, Colorado?How is it with you? You love not at all a vessel, I think?"

There certainly could be no doubt this time that the Skipper was makingfun; his face was alive with it, and John could have laughed outrightfor pleasure. 

"I don't believe you are a Malay, one bit!" said the child. "I'm notsure that you are a pirate at all, but I know you aren't a Malay. "

"Why that, my son?" asked the Skipper, waving the smoke aside, that hemight see the child's face the clearer. "Why do you think that? I am notdark enough for a Malay, is it that?"

"No, not that, " John admitted. "But--well, you have no creese, and youare not wild, nor--nor fierce, nor cruel. "

"But I have the creese!" the Skipper protested. "The creese, would yousee it? It is in the cabin, behind the door, with other arms of piracy. Still, Colorado, it is of a fact that I was not born in Polynesia, no. As to the fierceness and the cruelty, we shall see, my son, we shallsee. If I kept you here on the 'Nautilus' always, took you with me away, suffered you no more to live with your gentle Sir Scraper, that would becruelty, do you think it? That would be a fierce pirate, and a cruelone, who would do that?"

John raised his head, and looked long and earnestly in his friend'sface. "Of course, I know you are only in fun, " he said, at last, "because dreams don't really come true; but--but that _was_ my dream, you know! I think I've dreamed you all my life. At least--well, I neverknew just what you looked like, or how you would come; but I alwaysdreamed that some one would come from the sea, and that I should hearabout the shells, and know what they were saying when they talk; and--"he paused; but the Skipper patted his shoulder gently, in sign that heunderstood. 

"And--what else, Juan Colorado?" he asked, in what seemed the kindestvoice in the world. But the boy John hung his head, and seemed loth togo on. 

"There--there was another part to what I dreamed, " he said at last. "Iguess I won't tell that, please, 'cause, of course, you were only infun. "

"And what the harm to tell it, " said the Skipper, lightly, "even if itcome not true? Dreams are pretty things; my faith, I love to dream mineself. Tell thy friend, Colorado! tell the dream, all the wholeness ofit. "

There was no resisting the deep, sweet voice. The little boy raised hishead again, and looked frankly into the kind, dark eyes. 

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

"Away? Good!" the Skipper repeated. 

"Away, " the boy murmured, and his voice grew soft and dreamy. "Away fromthe 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 mein a ship, and I should live always on the water, and it would rock melike a cradle, and I should feel as if I had always lived there. And Ishould see the flying-fish and dolphins, and know how the corals grow, and see things under the sea. And nobody would beat me then, and Ishould not have to split wood when it makes my back ache. That was theother part of my dream. "

The Skipper laid his hand lightly on the child's head and smoothed backthe red curls. "Who knows?" he said, with a smile. "Who knows what maycome of dreams, Colorado? Here the one-half is come true, already atthis time. Why not the other?" He turned away as if to change thesubject, and took up a piece of the white branching coral that lay athis elbow. "When I gather this, " he said in a lighter tone, "it was aday in the last year; I remember well that day! A storm had been, andstill the sea was rough a little, but that was of no matter. Along theisland shore we were cruising, and I saw through the water, there veryclear, fine trees. "

"Trees?" repeated the wondering child. 

"Of coral, naturally!" said the Skipper. "Coral trees, Juan, shiningbright, bright, through the green water. 

"'Hola, you! lower anchor!'

"It is done. I put on the diving dress. I take a rope about my waist, Idescend. There a forest I find; very beautiful thing to see. Here we seegreen trees, and in your north, in fall of year, bright colours, butthere colours of rainbow all the year round. In one place bright yellow, 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, as your word is. On the one side are cliffs of mountains, withcaves in their sides, and from these caves I see come out manycreatures; the band-fish, a long ribbon of silver with rose shiningthrough; the Isabelle fish, it is violet and green and gold, like aqueen. Under my feet, see, Colorado! sand white like the snow of yourwinter, fine, shining with many bright sparks. And this is a garden; forall on every hand flowers are growing. You have seen a cactus, that somelady keeps very careful in her window, tending that it die not? Yes!Here is the white ground covered with these flowers completely, only ofmore size hugely, crimson, pale, the heart of a rose, the heart of ayoung maiden. Sea-anemones are these, Colorado, many, many kinds, allvery fine to see. And here, too, on the ground are my shells, not ashere, when of their brightness the half is gone for want of the lifeand the water, but full of gleams very glorious, telling of greatness intheir making. Here above the water, my little child, I find persons manywho doubt of a great God who maketh all things for good, and to grow inthe end better; but to have been under the sea, that is to know that itcannot be otherwise; a true sailor learns many things that are not fullyknown upon the land, where one sees not so largely His mercy. "

He was silent for a moment, and then went on, the child sitting rapt, gazing at him with eyes which saw all the wonders of which he told. 

"All these things I saw through the clear water, as if through purestglass I looked. I broke the branches, which now you see white andcleaned, but then all splendid with these colours whereof I tell you. Many branches I broke, putting them in pouches about my waist andshoulders. At once, I see a waving in the water, over my head; I look upto see a shark swim slowly round and round, just having seen me, andmaking his preparations. I have my knife ready, for often have I metthis gentleman before. I slip behind the coral tree, and wait; but he isa stupid beast, the shark, and knows not what to do when I come not out. So up I quickly climb through the branches, with care not to tangle therope; he still looking for me at the spot where first he saw me. I gainthe top, and with a few pulls of my good Rento on the rope, I am in theboat, and Sir Shark is snapping his teeth alone, very hungry, but notinvited to dinner. "

"Do you think he was stronger than you?" asked the little boy. "You'revery strong, aren't you? I should think you were as strong as sharks, and 'most as strong as whales. "

The Skipper laughed. "Sir Shark is ten times so strong as any man, lethim be of the best, my friend; but he has not the strength of head, youunderstand; that makes the difference. And you, could you do that, too?Could you keep yourself from fear, when the sea-creatures come aboutyou, if you should 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 anythingthat I know about, here on shore. There was a snake, " he went on, lowering his voice, "last summer there was a snake that lived in a holeby the school-house, and he was a poison snake, an adder. One day hecrept out of his hole and came into the school-house, and scared themall 'most to death. The teacher fainted away, and all the children gotup into a corner on the table, and the snake had the whole floor tohimself. But it looked funny to see them all that way over a littlebeast that wasn't more than two foot long; so I thought about it, andthen I went to the wood-box (we were burning brushwood then) and got astick with a little fork at the end, and I came up quick behind thesnake, and clapped that down over his neck, so he couldn't turn his headround, and then I took another stick and killed him. That's only alittle thing, but I wasn't afraid at all, and I thought perhaps it wouldshow whether I would be good for anything when there were real thingsto 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, butnot like Franci. Franci dies every time he see a snake, and come to lifeonly to find out if somebody else is killed. See, my son, how beautifulthe moon on the water! Let us look for a few moments, to take the beautyinto us, and then I must send my little friend to his bed, that nothingharmful comes to him. "

So they sat hand in hand for awhile, gazing their fill, saying nothing;there was the same look in the two faces, so widely different. Thelittle boy, with his clear brow, his blue eyes limpid as a mountainpool, shining with the heavens reflected in them; the dark Spaniard (ifhe were a Spaniard!) with lines of sadness, shadows of thought and ofbitter experience, making his bronze face still darker; what was therealike in these two, who had come together from the ends of the earth?The thought was one, in both hearts, and the look of it shone in theeyes of both as they sat in the moonlight white and clear. What was thethought? Look into the face of your child as it kneels to pray at closeof day! Look into the face of any good and true man when he is liftedabove the things of to-day, and sees the beauty and the mystery, andhears the eternal voices sounding!

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

CHAPTER VIII. 

IN THE NIGHT. 

The evening had been peaceful, all beauty and silence; but not so thenight for the boy John. Something was the matter; he could not sleep. The bunk in the little cabin was comfortable enough for anyone, but tohim it was a couch for an emperor. He speculated on the probability ofGeorge the Third's having had anything like so luxurious a bed, andrejected the thought as absurd. There were no lumps in the mattress, neither any holes through which sharp fingers of straw came out andscratched him. The red curtains at the sides could be drawn at will, and, drawing them, he found himself in a little world of his own, warmand still and red. The shells were outside in the other world; he couldlook out at any moment and see them, and touch them, take them up; hisfriend had said so. Now, however, it seemed best just to be alive, andto stay still and wonder what would become of him. He heard the Skippercome down and go to bed, and soon the sound of deep, regular breathingtold that he slept, the man of wonder; but John could not sleep. And nowother thoughts came thronging into his mind, thoughts that were not softand crimson and luxurious. To go away, as the Skipper had said, --to goto heaven! But one did not go to heaven till the time came. Was itright? Was the Skipper a good man?

The child debated the question with anguish, lying with wide open eyesin his crimson-shaded nest. Mr. Scraper was--not--very nice, perhaps;but he had taken him, John, when his mother died, and fed and clothedhim. He had often had enough to eat--almost enough--and--and Mr. Scraperwas old, and perhaps pretty soon his legs would go to sleep, like oldCaptain Baker's, and he would not be able to walk at all, and then howwould it be if he were left alone? Perhaps people would not come to helphim, as they had helped the captain, because everybody in the villageloved the captain, and no one exactly loved Mr. Scraper. So if the onlyperson who belonged to him at all should go off and leave him, how couldit be expected that the folks who had their own grandfathers and thingsto take care of would stop and go to take care of this old man? And ifhe should die there, all alone, with no one to read to him or bring himthings, or feed him with a spoon, why, --how would it seem to himself, the boy John's self, when he should hear of it?

"I am a murderer!" he said aloud; and straightway, at the sound of hisown voice, cowered under the bedclothes, and felt the hangman's hand athis neck. 

What did it mean, when a person could not sleep?

There was a man in an old book there at the house, and he was wicked, and he never could sleep, never at all. The things he had done came andsat on him, and they were hot, like coals, and the heat went through tohis heart and burned it. Would it be so with him, if he should go awayin the "Nautilus, " and forget--or try to forget--the old man who hadnobody to love him? Not that Mr. Scraper wanted to be loved yet, at all;but--but he might, some time, when his legs had gone to sleep, andthen--

Sometimes, when a person could not sleep, it meant that he was going todie. Suppose one were to die now, and go to heaven, and they said toone, "How was Mr. Scraper when you came away?" and one had to say, "Iran away and left him this evening, and I don't know how he is, orwhether he is alive or dead--for sometimes old people die just likethat, dropping down in their chairs--what would they say to one? Perhapsthe old man had dropped down now, this very night, from anger at hisbeing away when he should have done the chores". He saw Mr. Scrapersitting in his arm-chair, cold and dead, with the rats running over thefloor at his feet, because he, John, had not set the trap. A scream roseto his lips, but he choked it back; and sitting up in desperation, drewaside the red curtains and looked out. 

The cabin lay dim and quiet before him. A lantern hung in the middle, turned low, and by its light he could see the shelves, with theirshining rows of shells, and the glass counter with the sea-jewelry. Directly opposite him, only the narrow space of the cabin between, laythe Skipper in his bunk, sleeping peacefully. The wild fear died away inthe child's heart as he saw the calmness and repose of the stalwartfigure. One arm was thrown out; the strong, shapely hand lay with thepalm open toward him, and there was infinite cheer and hospitality inthe attitude. In the dim light the Skipper's features looked less firmand more kind; yet they were always kind. It was not possible that thiswas a bad man, a stealer of children, a pilferer of old men's cupboards. 

If one could think that he had been playing all the time, makingbelieve, just as a person did one's self; but John had never known anygrown people who could make believe; they had either forgotten, or elsethey were ashamed of the knowledge. Once, it was true, he had persuadedMr. Bill Hen Pike to be Plymouth Rock, when he wanted to land in the"Mayflower;" but just as the landing was about to be effected, Mrs. Pikehad called wrathfully from the house, and the rock sprang up andshambled off without even a word of apology or excuse. So grown peopledid not understand these things, probably; and yet, --yet if it had beenplay, what glorious times one could have, with a real creese, and a realschooner, and everything delightful in the world!

How could he be bad and look like that? The child bent forward andstrained his eyes on the sleeping face. So quiet, so strong, so gentle!He tried putting other faces beside it, for he saw faces well, this boy, and remembered what he had seen. He tried Mr. Scraper's face, with theugly blink to the red eyes, and the two wrinkles between the eyes, andthe little nest of spiteful ones that came about his mouth when he wasgoing to be angry; even when he slept--the old gentleman--his hands wereclenched tight--how different from that open palm, with its silentwelcome!--and his lips pursed up tight. No! no! that was not a pleasantpicture! Well, there was Lena! she was pleasant to look at, surely! Herhair was like silver, and her eyes blue and soft, though they could besharp, too. But, somehow, when her face was brought here beside theSkipper's, it looked foolish and empty, and her pretty smile had nothingto say except to bid one look and see how pretty she was, and howbecoming blue was to her; and--and, altogether, she would not do at all. 

Mr. Bill Hen, then, who was always kind to him, and quite often, when. Mrs. Pike was not near, would give him a checkerberry lozenge. Mr. BillHen's face was good-natured, to be sure, but oh, how coarse and red andstupid it was beside the fine dark sleeping mask! Why did people look sodifferent, and more when they were asleep than any other time? Did one'ssoul come out and kind of play about, and light up the person's face;and if so, was it not evident that the Skipper _was_ a good man? andthat perhaps things were really different in his country, and they hadother kinds of Ten Commandments, and--no, but right was right, and itdidn't make any difference about countries in that sort of thing. Youknew that yourself, because you felt it in your stomach when you did badthings; perhaps when one grew older, one's stomach did not feel soquickly. And, anyhow, if that was true about the soul, how do yousuppose a person's own soul would make his face look if he was runningaway from the things he ought to do, and going to play with monkeys andsee the wonders of the world? The boy wondered what he was looking likeat the present moment, and summoned up the image of a frightful pictureof a devil in another of those old books into which he was foreverpeeping at odd times. Did they miss him now, the old books in thegarret, because he had not come up to wish them good-night and take alook at some of the best pictures before he went to bed? Was he likelyto turn into a devil when he died, do you suppose?

How still it was, and how queer his eyes felt! But he could not liedown, for then he would be alone again, and the things would come andsit on him; it was good to sit up and look at the Skipper, andwonder--and wonder--

A gleam, faint and red, shot from a shell in the farther corner, --asplendid creature, scarlet and pale green, with horns that gave it asingularly knowing look. He almost thought it nodded to him; and hark!was that a tiny voice speaking, calling him by name?

"Come away, little boy!" said the voice. "Come away to the south, wherethe water is blue always, and storms come rarely, rarely! There, underthe water, my brothers and sisters wait to see you, and with them theirfriends, the lovely ones, of whom you have dreamed all your life. There, on beds of sea-moss, they lie, and the rainbow is dull beside them. Flowers are there, and stars, and bells that wave softly without sound. For one fair thing that the man, our master, told you of, we have athousand to show you. What does he know, a man, whose eyes are alreadyhalf-shut? But you are a child, and for you all things shall be openedunder the ocean, and you shall see the treasures of it, and thewonders; and you shall grow wise, wise, so that men shall look up toyou, and shall say, 'Where did he gain his knowledge?' And your friendshall be with you, oh yes, for he knows the way, if he cannot see allthe things that will meet your eyes! And you and he together shallsail--shall sail, through waters green as chrysoprase; and all thesea-creatures shall learn to know you and love you. You shall learnwhere the sea-otter makes his nest, in the leaves of the giant sea-weed, where they stretch along the water, full sixty feet long, as the Skippertold you. The 'Nautilus' will be there, too: not a clumsy woodenmountain, like this in which we lie prisoned, but the creature itself, the fairy thing of pearl and silver! Look! here lies his shell, and youfind it lovely; but like us, it is dim and dead for want of the lifewithin 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 usthrough the clear green water, and the night will fall like a softdream, and the moon-fish, with its disk of silver, shall gleam besideyou to light the dimness that yet is never dark; and you shall go down, down, down--"

And about this time it must have been that the little boy went down, forwhen the morning broke, the Skipper found him, fast asleep, and smilingas he slept. 

CHAPTER IX. 

FAMILY MATTERS. 

"Well, " said Mr. Bill Hen, "I only want to put it to you, youunderstand. Intelligent man like you, no need for me to do more than putit to you. There's the child, and there's the old man, and they 'pear tohave got separated. I don't want to be understood as implying anything, not anything in the living world; but there's where it is, you see. Andme being a justice of the peace, and sworn, you observe, to--well, I'msure you will see for yourself the position I'm placed in. Point is, youseemed consid'able interested in the child, as one may say. Nothingstrange in that, --nice little boy! would interest an Injin chief, if hehad any human feelin' in him. But _bein'_ a justice of the peace, yousee, --well, Mr. Scraper has sent me to make inquiries, and no offence inthe world, I trust--no _insult_, you understand, if I jest--well, allabout it--do you know where in thunder the child is?"

Mr. Bill Hen, standing on the bank, delivered himself of these remarkswith infinite confusion, perspiring freely, and wiping his face with aduster, which he had brought by mistake instead of a handkerchief. Helooked piteously at the Skipper, who stood leaning over the side, cheerfully inscrutable, clad in spotless white, and smoking a longcigar. 

"The child?" the Skipper repeated, thoughtfully. "You allude to the boycalled John, Señor Pike; yes, I had that suppose. Now, sir, the daybefore this, you tell me that this child is not well placed by that oldgentleman Scraper; that the old man is cruel, is base, is askin-the-flint, shortly. You tell me this, and I make reply to you thatthere are powers more high than this old person, who have of that childcharge. How, if those powers had delivered to me the child? how then, Iask you, Señor Pike?"

Mr. Bill Hen wiped his brow again and gasped feebly. "'Tis as Ithought!" he said. "You've got the child aboard. "

The Skipper nodded, and blew rings from his cigar. "I have the child, "he repeated, "aboard. What will you in this case do, Señor? I propose totake him with me away, to make of him a sailor, to care for him as myson. You think well of this; you have been kind to the child always, ashe tell me? You are glad to have him remove from the slavery of this oldfish, yes?" He smiled, and bent his dark eyes on his unhappy visitor. 

Mr. Bill Hen writhed upon the hook. "There--there's truth in what yousay, " he admitted, at length, after seeking counsel in vain from his redbandanna. "There's truth in what you say, I aint denyin' that. But whatI look at, you see, is my duty. You may have your idees of duty, and Imay have mine; and I'm a justice of the peace, and I don't see anythingfor it but to ask you to give up that child to his lawful guardeen, ashas sent me for him. "

A pause ensued, during which Franci sauntered to the side with easygrace. "Shall I put a knife into him, Patron?" he asked, indicating Mr. Bill Hen with a careless nod. "How well he would stick, eh? The fatnessof his person! It is but to say the word, Patron. "

Mr. Bill Hen recoiled with a look of horror, and prepared for instantflight; but the Skipper's gesture reassured him. "Franci, look if thereis a whale on the larboard bow!" said the latter. 

"Perfectly, Patron!" replied Franci, withdrawing with his most courtlybow. "When I say that no one will be killed at all in this cursed place, and I shall break my heart! but as you will. "

Again there was a pause, while Mr. Bill Hen wondered if this were afloating lunatic asylum or a nest of pirates, that had come so easily uptheir quiet river and turned the world topsy-turvy. At length--"Yourforce, Señor Pike, " the Skipper said, "I perceive it not, for to takeaway this child. Have you the milizia--what you call soldiers, police--have you them summoned and concealed behind the rocks, as in thetheatres of Havana? I see no one but your one self. Surely you have nothought to take the child of your own force from me?"

Mr. Bill Hen gasped again. "Look here!" he broke out at last. "What kindof man are you, anyway? you aint no kind that we're used to in theseparts, so now I tell you! When a man hears what is law in this part ofthe world, he gives in, as is right and proper, to that law andthat--and--and in short to them sentiments. Are you going to stand outagainst the law, and keep that child? and who give you a right to do forthat child? I suppose I can ask that question, if you are a grandee, orwhatever you are. Who give you a right, I ask?"

"Who shall say?" replied the Skipper. "Perhaps--" He said no more, butraised his hand with a gesture that was solemn enough; and Mr. Bill HenPike decided that he was beyond doubt a madman. But now the Skipperdropped his tone and attitude of smiling ease, and, throwing away hiscigar, stood upright. "Enough, Señor!" he said. "You are a good man, butyou have not the courage. Now, you shall see Colorado. " He turned towardthe cabin and called: "Colorado, my son, come to me!" Then, after apause, "He sleeps yet. Rento, bring to me the child!" Rento, who hadbeen hovering near, lending a careful ear to all that was said, nowvanished, and reappeared, bearing the boy John in his arms. The childwas but newly awake, and was still rubbing his eyes and looking abouthim in bewilderment. 

"Colorado, the Señor Pike, already well known to you!" said the Skipper, with a graceful wave of the hand. "Your guardian, the old gentlemanScraper, desires of our company at breakfast. How then, son of mine?Shall we go, or shall I keep you here, and bid Sir Scraper find his wayto the devil, which will be for him little difficult?" He smiled on theboy, and took his hand with a caressing gesture. 

Little John heaved a great sigh, and the cares of the world floatedfrom him like a summer cloud. "Oh, I knew it!" he cried, smilingjoyously up into his friend's face. "I knew it all the time, or almostall! You never meant anything but fun, did you? and we will go back, won't we? And we shall feel all right inside, and things will notsit--I--I mean nothing will feel bad any more. I--I can't say all Imean, " he added, rather lamely, "because I had thoughts in the night;but we will go now, you and I, you and I!"

 * * * * *

As they approached the gate, John stopped a moment, and looked up at hiscompanion. "Would you mind holding my hand?" he asked. "I am all rightin my mind, but I think I am rather queer in my legs; I think I shouldfeel better if I held the hand of--of somebody who wasn't little, or--orweak. "

Oh, the strong, cordial pressure of the big, brown hand! how it sentwarmth and cheer and courage through the little quivering frame! Johnwas all right in his mind, as he said, but his body felt already thestinging blows of the cane, his ears rang already with the burning wordsof rage and spite. 

"But it is the inside that matters!" said John, aloud; and he shut hiseyes and went into the house. 

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

"I have to ask your forgiveness, that I carry off yesterday our youngfriend here. You were not at house, I desired greatly of his company; Ihave the ways of the sea, waiting not too long for the things I like;briefly, I take him away. That I bear the blame of this is my desire. And now, shall we pleasantly converse, ha?"

He seated himself, drew the boy between his knees, and looked Mr. Scraper squarely in the eyes. Now, Mr. Scraper did not like to be lookedat in this manner; he shifted on his chair, and his mouth, which hadbeen opened to pour out a flood of angry speech, closed with a spitefulsnap, and then opened, and then closed again. 

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

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

"Why in--why do you come meddling here, and carrying off boys from theirlawful guardeens, and talking folderol, and raising Ned generally? I'veseen skippers before, but I never heered of no such actions as these, never in my days! Why, no one here so much as knows your name; and hereyou seem to own the hull village, all of a sudden. You, John, " he added, with a savage snarl, "you go about your business, and I'll see to youafterwards. I reckon you won't go out again without leave for onewhile!"

The child started obediently, but the strong hand held him fast. 

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

"You have, I already say, a beautiful name, Sir Scraper, " he said withcheerful interest. "Endymion! a fine name, truly--of poetry, ofmoonlight and beauty; you have had great joy of that name, I cannotdoubt?"

"What's my name to you, I should like to know?" retorted Mr. Scraper, with acrimony. "This aint the first time you've took up my name, andI'll thank you to leave it alone! You let go that boy, or I'll let youknow more 'n you knew before. "

"Perfectly!" said the Skipper. "Attend but a moment, dear sir. Let uspursue for a moment thoughts of poetry! Such a name as Endymion proves apoetic fancy in the giver of it; at a guess, this was your lady mother, now probably with the saints, and if others so fortunate as to belong toyour family, surely this excellent lady would have given to them, also, names of soul, of poetry! If there was a sister, for example, would shebe named Susan? No! Jane? Never! Find me then a name! Come! at aventure. Zenobia? Aha! what say you?"

He leaned forward, and his glance was like the flash of a sword. Thechild looked in wonder from one to the other; for the old man had sunkback in his chair, and his jaw had fallen open in an ugly way, andaltogether he was a sad object to look at. 

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

"What pleasure to bring before the mind a picture of a family socharming! Of you, dear sir, in your gracious childhood, how endearingthe image! how tenderly guarded, how fondly cherished here by your sidethe little sister? Ah! the smiling picture, making glad the heart! Thissister, Zenobia, let us say, grows up, after what happy childhood withsuch a brother needs for me not to say. They are three, thesechildren, --how must they love each other! But one brother goes earlyaway from the home! In time comes for Zenobia, as to young maidens willcome, a suitor, a foreigner, shall we say? a man, like myself, of thesea? May it not have been possible, dear sir?"

"A roving nobody!" the old man muttered, striving to pull himselftogether. "A rascally"--but here he stopped abruptly, for a stern handwas laid on his arm. 

"I am speaking at this present, sir!" said the Skipper. "Of this man Ido not ask you the character. I tell my story, if you please, in my ownway. 

"The mother, by this time, is dead. The father, unwilling to part withhis daughter, --alas! the parental heart, how must it be torn? As yours, the tender one, last night, on missing this beloved child, Sir Scraper. The father, I say, opposes the marriage; at length only, and after manytears, much sorrow, some anger, consents; the daughter, sister, Zenobia, goes with her husband away, promising quickly to return, to take her oldfather to her home in the southern islands. Ah, the interesting tale, isit not? Observe, Colorado, my son, how I am able to move this, your dearguardian. The pleasant thing, to move the mind of age, so oftenindifferent. 

"Zenobia goes away, and the son, the good son, the one faithful anddevoted, who will not marry, so great his love for his parent, is leftwith that parent alone. How happy can we fancy that parent, is it not?How gay for him the days, how sweet for him the nights, lighted withlove, and smoothed his pillow by loving hands, --ah, the pleasantpicture! But how, my friend, you feel yourself not well? Colorado, aglass of water for your guardian. "

The old man motioned the child back, his little eyes gleaming with rageand fear. 

"You--you come a-nigh me, you brat, and I'll wring your neck!" hegasped. "Well, Mister, have you finished your--your story, as you callit? Why do I want to listen to your pack of lies, I should like to know?I wonder I've had patience to let you go on so long. "

"Why do you want to listen?" the Skipper repeated. "My faith, do I know?But the appearance of interest in your face so venerable, it touch me tothe heart. Shall I go and tell the rest of my story to him there, thatother, the justice of the peace? But no, it would break your heart tohear not the end. That we proceed then, though not so cheerful theending of my story. Zenobia, in her southern home, happy, with her childat her knee, feels still in her heart the desire to see once more herfather, to bring him to her, here in the warm south to end his days ofage. She writes, but no answer comes; again she writes, and again, griefin her soul, to think that anger is between her and one so dear. Atlast, after a long time, a letter from her brother, the stay-at-home, the faithful one; their father is dead; is dead, --without speaking ofher; the property is to him left, the faithful son. It is finished, itis concluded, the earth is shut down over the old man, and no more is tosay. 

"With what tender, what loving words this cruel news tells itself, needsnot to repeat to a person so of feeling as yourself, Sir Scraper. Zenobia, sad woman, believes what she is told; bows her head, gathers toher closer her husband and her son, and waits the good time when Godshall make to her good old father the clear knowledge that she hasalways loved him. Ah, yes, my faith!

"Now, in a year, two years, I know not, what arrives? A letter, old andworn; a letter soiled, discoloured, of carrying long in a sailor'spocket, but still easily to be read. This letter--shall we guess, SirScraper? Well, then, from her father! The old man in secret, in fear, lying on his bed of death, makes come by stealth a neighbour, kindlydisposed to him; makes write by his hand this letter; makes draw upbesides, it may be, other papers, what do we know?

"Ah! but remain quiet, dear sir. Grieved that I do not interest you, Imust still pray of your presence, that you do not yet withdraw it. Ancient fish-skin, do I tie thee in thy chair?

"So! that is well, and you will remain quiet, Señor, with a thousandpardons!

"This letter, then, it is one to wring the heart. He has longed for hisdaughter, this poor old man; in two grasping hands held as in a vise, heturns to her who was always kind, he prays her to return, to let himcome to her, what she will. Failing this, and knowing that on earth thetime is short for him to remain, he bids her not grieve, but send to herhome a messenger of trust, and let him look for a certain paper, in acertain place. Finally, he prays for her the blessing of God, this goodold man, and bids her farewell, if he may never see her more. Truly, aletter over which a pirate, even a Malay pirate, Colorado of my heart, might shed tears. "

The Skipper's voice was still quiet, but its deep tones were stern withsuppressed feeling; with menace, was it? The child, bewildered, lookedfrom one to the other of his two companions. The Spaniard's eyes burnedred in their depths, his glance seemed to pierce marrow and sinew; hesat leaning lightly forward in his chair, alert, possessing himself, ready for any sudden movement on the part of his adversary; for the oldman must be his adversary; something deadly must lie between these two. Mr. Scraper lay back in his chair like one half dead, yet the rage andspite and hatred, the baffled wonder, the incredulity struggling withwhat was being forced upon him, made lively play in his sunken face. Hislean hands clutched the arms of the chair as if they would rend thewood; his frame shook with a palsy. Little John wondered what could ailhis guardian; yet his own heart was stirred to its depths by what he hadheard. 

"The son was bad!" he cried. "He was a bad man! Things must have satupon his breast _all_ night, and I am sure he could not sleep at all. Are you sorry for a person who is as bad as that? do you think any onetried to help him to be better?"

But the Skipper raised his finger, and pointed to the evil face of theold man. 

"Does that man look as if he slept, my son?" he asked. 

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

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

"It's a lie that you've cooked up from what you have heard from theneighbours. May their tongues rot out! And if it were true as the sun, what is it to you? She's dead, I tell you! She's been dead these twentyyears! I had the papers telling of her death; I've got 'em now, youfool. "

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

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

But if Mr. Scraper saw, it was only for a moment, for he gave a scream, and fell together sideways in his chair, struck with a fit. 

CHAPTER X. 

IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION. 

"And now, Colorado, son of my heart, " the Skipper said, "you understandwhy I was a thief that yesterday, and why I could not permit you at thatinstant to tell of my thieving?"

They had put the old man to bed, and Mr. Bill Hen had gone for thedoctor. In fact, when John ran out of the door, he had found Mr. BillHen leaning up against it, as speechless, with amazement and confusion, as Mr. Scraper himself! The good man, wholly unable to restrain hiscuriosity, had followed the Skipper and the boy, unbeknown to them, andposting himself in a convenient angle of the porch, had heard every wordof the conversation. The Skipper, perceiving the facts, managed to rousehim with a few sharp words, and sent him off in hot haste to thevillage; and had then proceeded to make the old gentleman comfortable, and to set things shipshape, so far as might be. 

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

"I do not!" was the reply. 

"I think this my revered uncle has yet many years to live--and repent, if so he be minded. He is a very bad old man, Colorado, this my revereduncle! Ah, thou ancient fish, thou art finally landed!"

"Are you sorry for a person when he is so bad as that?" asked the boy, as he had asked once before. 

"Do you think a person could make him better, if he tried very hardindeed?"

"I have no knowledge!" said the Skipper, rather shortly. "I am a humanperson altogether, my son! and I concern myself not greatly with theimprovement of this my revered uncle. Behold it, the will, made by mygrandfather, the father of my poor mother, whose soul, with his, rest ineternal glory! By this, my mother, and I after her, inherit this house, this garden, these possessions such as they are. If I desire, son ofmine, I may come here to-day to live, sell the 'Nautilus, ' or cut hercable and let her drift down the river, with Rento and Franci, and allthe shells; 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 I lead it, as is my right? Have I nothad enough, think you, of roving over the sea, with no place where I mayrest, save the heaving ocean, that rests never beneath the foot? Shallwe turn out this old wicked man, who did to death his old father, whomade my mother go sad of heart to her grave, who has done of all hislife no kind act to any person--shall we turn him out, and live in peacehere, you and I?"

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

"I am not very bright, " he said, "and you think so many things soquickly that I do not know what you mean a good deal of the time. But--but Cousin Scraper took me when my people died, and he has takencare of me ever since, and--and he has no one else to take care of himnow. "

"Yes, the fine care he has taken of you!" said the Skipper. "You are ofskin and bone, my child, and there are marks on your skin of blows, Isaw them yesterday: cruel blows, given from a bad heart. You have workedfor him, this ancient fish-skin, how long? Of wages, how much has hepaid you? Tell me these things, and I will tell you how much it is yourduty to stay by him. "

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

"You cannot tell a person those things, " he said; "a person has to tellhimself those things. But thank you all the same, " he added, fervently;"and I love you always more and more, every day and every minute, and Ialways shall. "

"Now the question is, " said the Skipper, shrugging his shoulders in mockdespair, "must I turn pirate in truth, to gain possession of a childwhom I could hold in my pocket, and who would give all his coloured hairfrom his head to go with me? Go away, son of mine, that I reflect onthese things, for you try my soul!"

John withdrew, very sad, and wondering how it was that right and wrongcould ever get mixed. He thought of looking in some of the old books tosee, but, somehow, books did not appeal to him just now. He went up tohis own little room, and took down the china poodle, and had a longtalk with him; that was very consoling, and he felt better after it; itwas wonderful how it cleared the mind to talk a thing over with an oldfriend. The poodle said little, but his eyes were full of sympathy, andthat was the main thing. By-and-by, as the child sat by his littlewindow, polishing the pearl-shell on his sleeve, and thinking over thestrange events of the last few days, there came to him from below thesound of voices. The doctor was there, evidently; perhaps Mr. Bill Hen, too; and little as he felt inclined to merriment, John fell into ahelpless laughter, as he recalled the look of that worthy man when hewas discovered flattened against the door. How much older one grewsometimes in a short time! Mr. Bill Hen used to look so old, so wise, and now he seemed no more than another boy, and perhaps rather a foolishboy. But seeing the Skipper made a great difference in a person's life. 

Presently the door at the foot of the stairs opened, and John heard hisname called; he hastened down, and found Mr. Scraper sitting up in bed, looking pale and savage, but in full possession of his faculties. Thedoctor was there, a burly, kind-eyed man, and Mr. Bill Hen was there, and the Skipper; and when little John entered, they all looked at him, and no one said anything for a moment. 

At length the doctor broke the silence. 

"I understand, sir, " he said, addressing the Skipper, "that you have apaper, a will or the like, substantiating your claims?"

"I have!" the Skipper replied. "The letter received by my mother, shortly before her death, was dictated by my grandfather, and told that, hearing for many years nothing from his son, this child's grandfather, he had made a will in her favour. This, being timorous, he had not daredto show to anyone, neither to send her a copy, but he bade her send amessenger to make search in a certain cupboard of this house, on acertain shelf, where would be found this paper. My mother dying, commended to me this search. I at that time was a youth on adventuresbent, with already plans for eastern voyages. Keeping always the letterin my pouch, and in my heart the desire of my mother, I came, nevertheless, not to this part of the world; years come and go, Señor, swiftly with men of the sea, and these shores seemed to me less ofattraction than Borneo and other places where were easily to be found mywares. Briefly, I came not; till this year, a commission from acollector of some extent brought the 'Nautilus' to New York. And then, say I, how then if I go on, see this my inheritance, discover if it mayprofit me somewhat? I come, I discover my revered uncle, unknown to him. Is the discovery such that I desire to fall on his respected bosom, crying, 'My uncle, soul of my family, behold your son!' I ask you, Señors both! But I find this, my revered uncle, to be a collector ofshells: thus he is in one way already dear to my heart. Again, I findhere at the moment of my arrival a child, who is in effect of my ownblood, who is to me a son from the moment of our first speech. Is it so, Colorado? Speak, my child!"

John could not speak, but he nodded like a little mandarin, and the redcurls fell into his eyes and hid the tears, so that no one but theSkipper saw them. 

"How then?" the Skipper resumed, after a moment's pause. "My soul notcalling me to reveal myself to this so-dear relative, what do I? I cometo this house, without special plan, to spy out the land, do we say? Ifind my uncle forth of the house; I find my child travailing in thegarden. Good! The time appears to me accepted. I enter, I search, I findthe cupboard, I find the paper. Briefly, Señors both, behold mepossessor of this house, this garden, this domain royal. "

He handed a paper to the doctor, who read it carefully, and nodded. Mr. Scraper made an attempt to clutch it in passing, but grasped the aironly. 

"What then, in finality, do I say?" the Skipper went on. "Do I desire tostay in this place? Wishing not to grieve the Señor Pike, whom greatly Iesteem, I consider it unfit for the human being. Of property, I havelittle desire; I have for my wants enough, I have my 'Nautilus, ' I havemy boys, to what end should I retain these cold spots of earth, neverbefore seen by me? To what purpose, I ask it of you, Señors? Therefore, in finality, I say to my revered uncle this: Give to me the child, giveto me the boy, that I take away and make a sailor, for which he wasborn; and I of my part surrender house and garden, even any money bagswhich may be, what know I, perhaps at this moment in the bed of myrevered uncle concealed?"

The old man gave a convulsive shudder at this, and shrieked faintly; allstarted, but the Skipper laughed. 

"You see, Señor Pike, and Señor Doctor, greatly respected! Who shallknow how great sums this ancient fish has hidden under him? Let him keepthem, these sums. I take the child, and I go my way. Is it finished, uncle of my heart? Is it finished, venerable iniquity? Can you part withthe child, beloved, even as your old father was beloved, and like himcaressed and tenderly entreated? Answer, thou!"

But before Mr. Scraper could speak, little John stepped forward, verypale, but clear in his mind. 

"If you please, " he said, "I should like to speak. If you please, he(indicating the Skipper, ) is so kind, and--and--he knows what I--heknows things I have thought about, but he does not know all. CousinScraper, you may be sick now, perhaps a long time, and perhaps you havegone upon your bed to die, like that king in the Bible who had figs puton; only he got well. 

"And I want to stay and take care of you, and--and I will do as well asI know how, and I think I can work more than I used to, because I knowmore, these last days, than I did, and--and--I think that is all. But ifyou don't mind--if you would try to like me a little, I think we shouldget on better; and if dried figs would do, we might try those, youknow. "

Here he turned to the doctor, with a face of such clear brightness thatthe good man choked, and coughed, and finally went and looked out of thewindow, wondering whether he was laughing or crying. 

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

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

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

Mr. Endymion Scraper was a man of few ideas; and only one was in hismind at this moment. Gathering himself up in the bed, he pushed the boyaway from him with all his feeble strength. 

"Go 'way!" he said. "Go 'way, I tell ye. If that man there will take ye, he's welcome to ye, I guess. If he's fool enough to take ye in exchangefor property, saying the property was his, which I aint fool enough todo without a lawyer--he's welcome to ye. I say, he's welcome. I don'twant no brats round here. I took ye out of charity, and I've had enoughof ye. Go 'long, I say, with that wuthless feller, if he is my sister'sson. I want to be rid of the hull lot and passel of ye!"

His voice rose to a scream, and the veins on his narrow forehead stoodout like cords. The doctor motioned to the Spaniard; and the latter, without another word, took the child up in his arms as he had done oncebefore, swung him over his shoulder, and left the room. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SAILING. 

"Rento!"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Franci!"

"Señor!"

"Jack and Jim!"

The monkeys for answer leaped on their master's shoulder, and chattered, and peered round into his face. 

"The company of this schooner, attention! Behold Colorado, who comes tobe my son! He sails with us, he receives kindness from you all, he is inhis home. Instruction you will give him in ways of the sea, and hebecomes in all things your brother. Am I understood?"

The different members of the crew received this intelligence each in hisown way. Rento advanced, and shaking John cordially by the hand, assuredhim with honest warmth that he was proper glad to see him, and that hehoped they should be good friends. 

Franci smiled like an angel, and the moment the Skipper's back wasturned, made frightful grimaces at the boy, and threatened his life. ButJohn was too happy to be afraid of Franci. Going boldly up to him, heasked, --

"Why don't you like me, and why do you want to kill me? I never did youany harm, and I should like to be friends, please. "

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

"Have you understanding?" he asked presently. "Have you intelligence toaccept the idea of a person of poetry, of soul?"

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

"Look, then!" exclaimed Franci, throwing his arms abroad with a dramaticgesture. 

"I am not of nature murderous. A dove, a lamb at sport in the meadow, such is the heart of Franci. But--behold me desolated on this infernalschooner. Torn by my parents from my home, from warm places of mydelight, from various maidens, all enamoured of my person, I am sent tobe a sailor. A life of horror, believe me who say it to you! Wetness, cold and work; work, cold and wetness! Behold the sea! may it beaccursed, and dry up at the earliest moment! I come here, on this sodisastrous voyage. Have I poetry, think you, on board this vessel? Isthe pig-faced armadillo yonder a companion for me, for Franci? Is mybeauty, the gentleness and grace of my soul appreciated here? even thePatron, a person in some ways of understanding, has for me only thetreatment of a child, of a servant. Crushed to the ground by theseafflictions, how do I revenge myself? How do I make possible the passageof time in this wooden prison? I make for myself the action, I make formyself the theatre. Born for the grace of life, deprived of it, let mehave the horrors! In effect, I would not hurt the safety of a flea; inappearance, I desire blood, blood, blood!"

He shrieked the last words aloud, and leaped upon the boy, his eyesglaring like a madman's; but John was on his own ground now; his eyesshone with appreciation. 

"That's splendid!" he cried. "Blood! Oh, I wish I could do it like that!I say, we can play all kind of things, can't we? We'll be pirates--onlygood pirates, --and we'll scour the seas, and save all the shipwreckedpeople, won't we? And you shall be the captain (or you might call itadmiral, if you liked the sound better, I often do), and I will be themate, or the prisoners, or the drowning folks, just as you like. I loveto play things. "

"Come to my heart, angelic child!" cried Franci, flinging out his armsonce more. "At length I am understood, I am appreciated, I have found acomrade! That I weep on thy bosom, Colorado!"

And, much to the disgust of Rento, he fell upon John's neck, and shed, or appeared to shed, a few tears, with great parade of silkhandkerchief. He then advanced to where the Skipper was smoking hiscigar in the stern, and informed him, with a low bow, that he andColorado were one soul, which the Skipper said he was delighted to hear, adding that he recommended the one soul to set the two bodies to workcleaning the brasses. 

Franci liked to clean the brasses, because he could see his face inthem, and make eyes at himself as he went along; accordingly he turnedthree back-somersaults, a sign of high good-humour with him, andreturned to his new friend. 

"Have you noticed, Colorado, " he inquired, "the contour of my leg? Didyou observe it now, quivering in the air?"

John nodded appreciation, and wondered how old Franci was. 

"To possess beauty, " said the latter, gravely, "is a responsibility, myfriend. It is a burden, my soul! Franci has shed tears over it, thetears of a poet. You have read of Apollo, at least you have heard ofhim, the god of poetry, of music, of grace? yes? Behold him, Colorado!He lives before you, in the form 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 over him, they tried to get into hispockets, they nestled in his arms, they challenged him to races amongthe yards. The Skipper was their king, Franci was their model, the idealtoward which they vainly aspired. Rento, good, homely Rento, was theperson who fed them, and with whom they could take any liberties, withno danger of a beating; but the new-comer, the boy John, was simplyanother monkey like themselves. Dressed up, it was true, like men, butin no other way resembling them more than another, more than themselves. Let him come and play, then, and put on no airs. These were thesentiments of Jack and Jim, and John responded to them with heartygood-will. 

The Skipper sat smoking, and watched with a quiet smile the gambols ofthe three young creatures, as they sped here and there about therigging, chattering, laughing, shrieking with glee. 

"Laugh, my son!" he said to himself, between the puffs of his cigar. "Laugh and play, my little son! Far too little laughter has been in thylife so far; here thou shalt be as gay as the sun is bright on theBahamas. Of what use to be a sailor, if not to rejoice, and to see withjoy the works of God and His glory? Laugh, Colorado, the sound is musicin my ears!"

But by-and-by the play must cease. Orders were given, and Rento andFranci set to work in good earnest. The wind was fair, the tide wassetting out. What should keep them longer here? The sails were hoistedto the tune of "Baltimore, " and Rento's gruff bass and Franci's meltingtenor were mingled for once in friendly harmony. 

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

Just as the cables were about to be cast off, a hail was heard from thewharf, and Mr. Bill Hen Pike appeared, purple and breathless. 

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

"Señor!" responded the Skipper, coming to the stern, and greeting hisguest with a wave of the hand, "you come to bid us farewell? It iskindly done! Or you bring us, perhaps, a message from our revered uncle?Speak with haste, Señor, the tide waits not!"

"I--I brought this!" said Mr. Bill Hen, holding up a small object. "Iwent up into his room, to see if there was anything he might like, andthere warn't nothing but just this. I thought you'd like to have it, Johnny, to take along with you. "

The good man's voice faltered; John ran to the stern, and held out hishands eagerly, tenderly, crying, --"Oh, thank you, dear Mr. Pike! thankyou so very, very much!"

For it was the china poodle that Mr. Bill Hen had brought. When thetreasure was safe in the child's hands, Mr. Bill Hen breathed morefreely. 

"Now you'll have something to remember us by, Johnny!" he said. "We'velotted on ye a good deal, here to the village; more maybe than youthought on. I--I'll miss ye consid'able, off and on, ye see, off and on. You'll think about us nows and thens, won't ye, Bub?"

"Oh, yes, indeed!" cried little John, eagerly. "I shall think of you agreat, great deal, Mr. Bill Hen! You have always been so good and kindto me, and I shall miss you, too, and Lena, and lots of people. And--andhow is Cousin Scraper, please, Mr. Bill Hen? Does he miss me, do youthink?"

"He's all right!" replied Mr. Bill Hen, gruffly. "Doosn't seem none theworse for his tantrum. No, if you ask me, I can't say as he seems tomiss ye, not anyways to hurt him, that is. He'll be out again to-morrowall right, doctor says; and besides bein' rather uglier than common allday, I don't see no difference in him. "

John sighed, but not very heavily. 

"I suppose if I had been nicer he might have missed me, " he said; "butthen, on the other hand, if he missed me, he wouldn't be so comfortableat my going away; so, you see!"

Mr. Bill Hen did not see, but he said it was of no consequence. Then, coming to the edge of the wharf, he shook hands all round, nevernoticing, in the preoccupation of his mind, the knife that Franciflashed and brandished in his eyes as a parting dramatic effect. He heldJohn's hand long, and seemed to labour for words, but found none; and sothey slipped away and left him standing alone on the wharf, a forlornfigure. 

Down the river! Sailing, sailing over the magical waters, past the fairyshores, already darkening into twilight shades of purple and gray. Thewhite schooner glided along, passing, as she had come, like a dream. Inthe bow stood the Skipper, his eyes bent forward, his hand clasping fastthe hand of the child. 

"We go, Colorado!" he said. "We go, my son, to new worlds, to a newlife. May a blessing be upon them, as my heart feels there will be. Behold, my friend, the ways of God, very wonderful to men of the sea. Icome up this river, with what thoughts in my heart? Partly of curiosity, that I see the place where my mother, long dead, was born, came to herwomanhood; partly of tenderness for her memory, regard for her wish;partly, also, for anger at the villain brother, my uncle, and desire forrevenge, for my rights. I come, and I find--a child! A brother for mypresent life, a son for my age, a friend for my heart! Living upon thesea, Colorado, a man has much time for thought; the sea speaks to him, the sky, the wind and wave. What is the word they say, each and everyone, in the ear of the sailor? 'Glory to God!' That is it, my son. Letus give thanks, and begin with joy our new life together!"

Down the river! The banks fade into shadow, the breeze sinks away, butstill the tide flows free, and the schooner slips along like a spirit. Now comes up the white fog, the fog out of which she came gliding thatfirst morning; and it receives her as a bride, and folds her in itsarms, and she melts into the whiteness and is gone. Was it all a dream?Or does there still come back to us, faintly borne, sweetly ringing, thesong of the sailors?

[Music]

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

[Illustration]

The Hildegarde Series

AND OTHER BOOKS BY LAURA E. RICHARDS. 

***Next to Miss Alcott's famous "Little Women" series they easily rank, and no books that have appeared in recent times may be more safely putinto the hands of a bright, intelligent girl than these four "QueenHildegarde" books. 

HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS. 

By Laura E. Richards. A companion to "Queen Hildegarde, " etc. Illustrated from original designs. Square 16mo, cloth. $1. 25. 

A new volume in the "Hildegarde" Series, some of the best and mostdeservedly popular books for girls issued in recent years. This newvolume is fully equal to its predecessors in point of interest, and issure to renew the popularity of the entire series. 

QUEEN HILDEGARDE. 

A story for girls, by Laura E. Richards, author of "Captain January, "etc. Illustrated from original designs by Garrett (292 pp). Square 16mo, cloth. $1. 25. 

"We would like to see the sensible, heroine-loving girl in her earlyteens who would not like this book. Not to like it would simply argue ascrew loose somewhere. " _Boston Post. _

HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY. 

A companion to "Queen Hildegarde. " By Laura E. Richards. Illustratedwith full-page plates by Copeland. Square 16mo, cloth. $1. 25. 

HILDEGARDE'S HOME. 

By Laura E. Richards, author of "Queen Hildegarde, " "Captain January, "etc. Illustrated with original designs by Merrill. Square 16mo, cloth. $1. 25. 

_ALSO_

FOUR FEET, TWO FEET, AND NO FEET;

Or, Furry and Feathery Pets, and How they Live. Stories of Animals, Fishes and Birds for the Little Folks. Edited by Laura E. Richards. Illustrated with nearly 250 wood engravings, all original in design, andengraved by George T. Andrew. Quarto. Illuminated board covers. $1. 75. 

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP. 

The story of their lives and other wonderful things related by The Manin the Moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form, by Laura E. Richards, daughter of Julia Ward Howe, author of "Four Feet, Two Feet, and No Feet, " "Joyous Story of Toto, " etc. With a large number ofbeautiful illustrations by Addie Ledyard, Kate Greenaway and others. Quarto. Illuminated board covers. $1. 25. 

SIX GIRLS. 

A delightful book for girls. By Fannie Belle Irving, a gifted writer, and niece of Washington Irving. Illustrated from designs by Merrill. 16mo, cloth. Boston. $1. 25. 

_Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston. _

Illustrated Gift Books

FOR ALL SEASONS. 

AMERICA'S GODFATHER;

Or, the Florentine Gentleman. Being the story of Amerigo Vespucci. ByVirginia W. Johnson, author of "The Lily of the Arno, " etc. Handsomelyprinted from large type, on fine paper, and illustrated with twentyfull-page plates in half-tone. Small, 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth, extra, original and very handsome cover design, gilt top, in a box. $2. 50. 

_WILLIAM WARE'S BOOKS. _

ZENOBIA;

Queen of Palmyra. A tale of the Roman Empire in the days of the EmperorAurelian. By William Ware, author of "Aurelian, " "Julian, " etc. _Holidayedition_. Handsomely printed from new and large type on laid paper, andhandsomely illustrated with twenty full-page plates in half-tone fromphotographs taken in Palmyra. Small 8vo, tastefully bound inparti-colored cloth, decorated in gold, with cameo portrait on side, gilt top, in a box. $2. 50

A handsome holiday edition of a famous historical novel, still popularand worthy of preservation in an attractive form. The illustrations addconsiderably to its interest, depicting the ruins of a splendidcivilization, that was at its zenith nearly two thousand years ago. 

AURELIAN;

Emperor of Rome. A tale of the Roman Empire in the Third Century. ByWilliam Ware, author of "Zenobia, " etc. Handsomely printed from new, large type, and illustrated with twenty full-page plates in half-tonefrom photographs of Roman scenes described in the story. Small 8vo, cloth, gilt top, _uniform with our holiday edition of_ "Zenobia, " eachcopy in a box. $2. 50. 

A companion edition to the handsome holiday edition of "Zenobia. " It isan historical tale of no ordinary power, and is familiar to the presentgeneration chiefly from the reputation of its former success, but welldeserves renewed popularity. 

JULIAN;

Or Scenes in Judea. By William Ware, author of "Zenobia, " etc. Handsomely printed from new, large type, on laid paper, and illustratedwith full-page plates reproducing historic scenes described in thenarrative. Small 8vo, cloth, gilt top, uniform with our holiday editionsof "Zenobia" and "Aurelian, " each copy in a box. $2. 50. 

Completes the series of historical romances by the author of "Zenobia. "The scene is laid at an earlier date than "Aurelian, " being in factduring the time of Christ's ministrations in Judea, scenes which havesince been so grandly used by Lew Wallace in "Ben Hur. " To most of thepresent generation the book will possess all the charm of novelty. 

_Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston. _

Italian Cities Illustrated

ROME OF TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY:

The Pagan Centuries. By John Dennie. New holiday edition. Illustratedwith maps, plans, and twenty full-page plates, reproducing, inphotogravure, photographs of the most important points of interest. Small 8vo, vellum cloth, 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 from large type on laid paper andillustrated with twenty full-page photogravure plates from actualphotographs of buildings, statues, church interiors, etc. , in the Cityof Genoa. Small 8vo, tastefully bound in white vellum cloth, illuminatedin 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, by Virginia W. Johnson. Charminglyillustrated with twenty-five full-page photogravure plates from originalPhotographs of points of interest in the beautiful City of Florence, "The Lily of the Arno. " Small 8vo, handsomely bound in white vellumcloth, with cover design in gold and colors, gilt top, uncut edges, withslip covers in scarlet. Each copy in a neat cloth case. $3. 00. 

NAPLES; THE CITY OF PARTHENOPE;

And its environs. By Clara Erskine Clement, author of "A Handbook ofLegendary and Mythological Art, " "The Queen of the Adriatic, " etc. Handsomely illustrated with twenty full-page plates in photogravure fromphotographs of historic scenes in and around Naples. Small 8vo, handsomely bound in extra cloth, with handsome cover design, gilt top, slip cover, in a neat cloth case. $3. 00. 

THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC;

Or, Venice, Mediæval and Modern. By Clara Erskine Clement, author of "AHandbook of Legendary and Mythological Art, " etc. Handsomely illustratedwith twenty full-page photogravures from recent photographs of theprincipal points of interest. Small 8vo, vellum cloth, illuminated ingold 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 the Bosphorus. By Clara ErskineClement, author of "Naples, " "Queen of the Adriatic, " etc. Handsomelyillustrated with full-page photogravures from original photographs. Small 8vo, cloth, substantially uniform in style with series of "ItalianCities Illustrated. " with slip cover, in cloth case. $3. 00. 

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

_Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston. _