The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

The Turning of the Long, Long Lane. » nun _, “Your kindness‘ to me, Mr. Compton,” "said he, very slowly, and with deep feeling. “ has been beyond all words. Ever since I first came to this country you have been the truest and beet'of all friends. I hope you ,know me well enough to know that I can s'never forget it. But now all this is at an end, , and all the bright prospects that I had here .‘ must give way to the call of the sternest duty. ‘ In that letter which I received lsstnight there came a summons home which I can not ne- glect, and my whole life hereafter must be di- rected toward theiulfilment of that summons. :From mid-dayV-yesterdsy until dawn this _ morning I paced my room incessantly, laying out my plans for the future thus suddenly thrust upon me, and though VI have not been able to decide upon anything definite, yet I see plainly that nothing less than a life will enable me to accomplish my duty. The first thing for me ‘to do is to acquaint you with this and to give up my part in the busi- ness.” . _ . . .. n _ L_‘.“ CHAPTER II. _ A LIFE TRAGEDY. Not a. word or a gesture escaped Brandon during the p‘eruaal, but after he had finished he read the whole through twice, then laying it down. he paced up and down the room. His olive skin had become of a sickly tawny hue, his eyes glowing with intense luatre, and his brow covered with those gloomy Napoleo- nic clouds, but not a nerve was shaken by the shock of this dread intelligence. _ilflvening 05813 and night ; and the night passed, and morning came, but it found him still there pacing the; room. Earlier than usual next morning he was at the oflice and waited for some time before the senipr partner made his appearance. When he came in it was with a smile on his face, and a. genera} air of congratulation to all the World. ’ “ Well, Brandon,” said he, cordially,“ that last shipment has turned out finely. More then s thousand pounds. And it’s all your doing. I objected, but you were right. Let. me congratulate you. ” Something in Brandon‘s face seemed to surprise the old gentlemen, and he paused for a moment. “ Why. What‘s the matter, my boy? ” he said, in s paternal voice. “You have not heard any bad news. I hope. in that letter +1 hope it’s nothing serious ? ” , Brandon gave a. faint smile. “ Serious enough." said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, “ to put a. sudden end to my Australian career.” “ 0h uoâ€"oh no i ” said the other, esrnesb 1y; “ not so bad as that." “I must go home at once.” “Oh, well, that may be. but you will be back again. Take a leave of absence for five years if you wish, but don’t quit for good. I‘ll keep your place comfortable for you till you return.” / . . . n nun“... Brandon’s stern face softened as he looked at the old man, whose females were filled with the kindest expression. and whose tone showed the aflechionate imerest which he felt. _ _ n uuun. gm. Compton placed his elbow on the table nea'r which he had seated himself, leaned his head upon his hand, and looked at the floor. From Brandon’s tone he perceived that this resolution was irrevocable. The deep de- jection which he fqu could not be concealed. do was silent for a long time. ..‘.1- uv "Wu unv... -... __ _~-o “ God knows,” said he, at last, “ that I would rather have failed in business than this should have happened.” Brandon looked away and said nothing. “ It comes upon me so uldenly,” he con- tinued. “ I do not know but to think. And how can I manage these vast efiairs Without your aseietanee ? For you were the one who did our business. I know that well. I had no head for it.” ” You can reduce it to smaller proportions,” Enid Brandon ; “ that can easily be done." The old man sighed. “ After all,” he continued, “ it is not the business. It’s losing you that Ithink of, dear boy. I am not thinkmg of the business at all. My grief is altogether about your departure. I grieve, too, at the blow which must have fallen on you to make this necessary.” ,3“. l . w ‘ ‘ v n V "‘ J "‘ " i" ’ . “ The blow is a heavy one." said Brandon ; “ so heavy that everyming else in life must be forgotten except the one thoughtâ€"how to recover from it ; and perhaps. also," he added, in a lower voice, ” how to return it." PlTCHERY-BIDGERY. Mr. Compton _was silent for a long time. and with every minute the deep dejection of his face and manner increased. He xolded his arms and shut his eyes in deep thought. “ My boy,” said he at last. in the some pa- ternal tone which he had used before, and in a mild, calm voice. “ I suppose this thing can not be helped, and all {hub is left for me to do is to beat 11; as best I may. I will not indulge in any selfish sorrow in who presence of the greater trouble. I will rather do all in my pow- er to coincide with your wishes. I see now that you must; have a good reason for your de- cision, although I do not seek to look into that reason.” " Believe me,” said Brandon. “ I would show you the letter an once, but it is so terri- ble that I would rather that you should not know. It is worse than death, and I do not even yet begin co know the worst.” ‘ .u-,, "i‘Lé‘o‘ld'Tnan sighed,nnd looked atbim withideep commisgration. . .. n u.. W‘Tlrfr Bar separation must indeed be final,” said he, at. last, “ I will take care Lhm you shall suffer no loss. You shall have your full share of the capital.” "Ki Vieive that entirely to you." Baid Brandon. “Fortunately our business is not much scattered. ‘; A settlements can easily be made, and I will arrange it so that. you shall not have any loss. Our balance sheet was made out only last month. and it shiwed our firm to be worth thirty thousand pounds. Half of this is yours, andâ€"" “ Half l” interrupted the other. “ My dear friend, you mean a quarter." The old man waved his ham]. “ I said half, and I mean half.” “ I will never consent." “ You must.” “ Never." “ You shall. Why. think of the petty busi- ness that I was doing when you came here. I was worth abouz four thousand. You have built up the business to its present dimen- sions. Do you suppose that I don’t know ‘3” “ Stop,” said Mr. Compton. " I have not said all. I attach a condition to this which I implore you not to refuse. Listen to me, and you will then be able to see.” “ I cannot allowAfou to make such a saexi fl‘ce,” said Brandon. .1 Mr. Compton rose and looked caretuily out into the oflice. There was no one near. He then returned, locked the door, and drawing his chair close to Brandon, began, in a low voice : “ My name is not Compton. It is Hem-y Lawton. All my eariy life was passed at. York. There I married, had 3 Hon and lived happily gar yearsâ€"in fact, during the childhood of my 0y. “ It was that boy of mine, Edgar, that led to all my troubles. I suppose we indulged him too much. It was natural. He was our only child, and so we ruined him. He got beyond our control at 1mm. and used to run wild about the streets of York. I dxd what I could to save him, but it was too lute. “ You have your secrets and I have mine. I don’t. wish to know yours, but my own I am going to tell to you, not merely for the sake of sympathy, but rather for the sake of your assistance. I am going to tell you who I am, and why I came here. “ He went on from bad to wore, until at last he got in with a set. of miscreants who were among the worst in the country. My God! to think how my boy, once a sweet child. could have fallen so low. But he was weak, and easily led, and so he Went on from bad to worse. “ I cannot bear to 'go into particulars,” said the old man, after a long pause. “ I wil come at once to the point. My poor, wretched BY MONSIEUR DEMOULIN boy got in with these miscreants, as I was telling you. and I did not see him from one month’s end to another. At last a great bur- glary took place. Three were arrested. Among these two were old offenders, hard~ ened in vice, the one named Briggs, the other Cracker; the third was my unhappy boy.” The old man was silent for some time. “ I do not; think, aiter all, that he was guilty; but Briggs turned King’s evidence, and Crocker and my son were condemned to transportation. There was no help. “ I sold out all I had in the world, and in compliance with the entreetiee of my poor wife, who nearly went mad with grief, I came out here. I changed my name to Compton. My boy’s term was for three years. I began a. business out here. and as my boy behaved well he was able to get permission to hire out as n. servant. I took him nominally as my servant, for no one knew that he was my son, and so we had him with us again. “ I hoped that the bitter lesson which he ‘ had learned would prove beneficial, but I did not know the strength of evil inclinations. As long as his term of imprisonment lasted he was content and behaved well; but at last, when the three years were up, he began to grow reetive. Cracker was freed at about the same time. and my boy fell again under his evil influence. This lasted for about a year, when, at last, one morning a. letter was brought me from him stating that he had gone to India. “ My poor wife was again nearly distracted. She thought of nothing but her boy. She made me take her and go in search of him again.‘ So we went to India. After a long search I found him there, as I had feared, in connec‘ tion with his old, vicious associates. True, they had changed their names, and were trying to pass for honest men. Crocker called himself Clark, and Briggs called him- self Potts.” “ Potts ‘1“ cried Brandon. “ Yes.” said the other. who was too ab- sorbed in his own thoughts to notice the sur- lprise of Brandon. “ He was in the employ lot Colonel Deepard, at Calcutta, and enjoyed much of his confidence." \ “ What year was this 7” asked Brandon. ) “ 1825,” replied Mr. ComptonI “Cracker,” ‘ he continued, “ was acting as a sort of shipn ping agent, and my son was his clerk. Of course, my first efiorts were directed toward detaching my son from these scoundrels. I did all that I could. I offered him half of my property, and finally all, if he would only leave them forever and come back. The wretched boy refused. He did not appear to be altogether bad, but he had a weak nature, and could not get rid of the influence of these two men. “ I staid in India a year and a half, untilI found at last that there was no hope. I could find nothing to do there, and if I remained I would have to starve or go out to service. This I could not think of doing. So I pre- pared to come back. But my wife refused to leave her son. She was resolved, she said, to stay by him till the last. I tried to dis- suade her. but could not move her. I told her that I could not be a domestic. She said that she could do even that for the sake of her boy. And she went off at once, and got a situation as nurse with the same Colonel Despard with whom Briggs, or, as he called himself. Potts. was staying." “ What was the Chxistian name of this Potts ? " asked Brandon, calmly. “ Johnâ€"John Potts.” Brandon said nothing further, and Comp ton resumed. “ Thus my wife actually left me. I could not stay and be a slave. So I made her promise to write to me, and told her that I would send her as much money av. I could. She clung to me half broken-hearted as I left her. Our parting was a bizter oneâ€"bitter enough; but I would rather break my heart with grief than to be a servant. Besides, she knew that whenever she came back my heart was open to receive her.” “ I came back to my lonely life out here and lived for nearly two years. At last, in September 1828, a. mail arrived from India bringing a. letter from my wife, and Indian papers. The news which they brought well~ nigh drove me mad.” bompton buried his face in his hands and remained silent tor some films. “ You couldn’t have been more than a child at that time.but perhaps you may have heard of the mysterious murder of Col- onel Despard ? ” He loo-Red inquiringly at Brandon, but the latter gave no sxgn. “ Perhaps not,” he cominuedâ€"“no ; you were too young, of course. Well. it was in the Vishnu. a. brig in which the Colonel had embarked for Manilla. The brig was laden with hogeheads stoves and box shooks. and the Colonel went there partly for his health. partly on business, taking with him his valet Potts.” “ What became of his family ‘2” interrupt- ed Brandon. " He had a son in England at school. His wife had died not: long before this at one of the hill stations, where she had, gone for her health. Grief may have had something to do with the Colonel’s voyage, for he was very much attached to his wife. “ Mails used only to come at long intervals in those days, and this one brought the ac- count not only of the Colonel’s fate, but of the trial at Manilla and the execution of the man that was condemned. “ It was a very mysterious case. In the month of July a boat arrived at Manilla‘ which carried the crew and one passenger‘ from the brig Vishnu. One of the men, a Malay named Uraoao, was in irons, and he was immediately given up to the authorities.” " Who were the others 27 ” “ Potts,as he called himself, the Colonel’s valet, Clark, threelLsscars. and the Captain, an Italian named Gigolo. Information was at once laid against the Malay. Potts was the chief witness. He said that he slept in the cabin while the Golonel slept in an inner state room ; that one morning early he was roused by a frightful shriek and saw Uraoao rushing from the Colonel's state room. He sprang up, chased him. and caugrt him just as he was about to leap overboard. His creese covered with blood was in his hand. The Colonel, when they went to look at him, had his throat out from. ear to ear. Clark swore that he was steering the vessel and saw Potts catch Uracao, and helped to hold him. The Captain, Cigole, swore that he was waked by the noise, and rushed out in time to see this. Clark had gone as mate of the vessel. Of the Lasoars, two had been down below, but one was on deck and swore to have seen the same. On this testimony Uracao was condemned and execut ‘~ How did they happen to leave the brig ?” -‘ They said that a great storm came up about three days’ sail from Manilln, the vessel sprang a leak, and they had to take to the boat. Their testimony was very clear indeed, and there were no con tradiotions; but in spite of all this it was felt to be a very mysterious case, and even the exhibition of the Malay ereese, carefully covered with the stains of blood, did not altov “other dispel this feeling.” v " Have you got the pipers yet, or are there any in Sydney that contain an account of this affair I” “ I have kept them all. You may read the Whole case if you care about it." “I should like to; very much,” said Bran- don, with great calmness. “ When I heard of this before the mail was opened I felt an agony of fear last my misen able boy might be implicated in some way. To my immense relief his name did not occur M 8.11.” “You got a letter from your wife ‘2" said Brandon. inpgrxogatjyely. “ Yes," said the old man witha sigh. “The last I ever received from her. Here it is." And, saying this. he opened his pocket book and took om uletter, worn and faded, and blackened by frequent readings. “ My DEABEST HENRY.â€"By the papers that I send you, you will see what has occurred. Our dear Edgar is well, indeed better than Brandon 6001: ft respecnfully and read the following: . “CALCUTTA, August 15, 1828. usual, and I would feel much cheered if it} were not for the sad fate of the Colonel. This is the last letter that you will ever receive from me. I am going to leave this country never to return. and do not know where I will go. Wherever I go I will be with my darling Edgar. Do not worry about me or about him. It will be better for you to forget all about us, since we are from thie time the same as dead to you. Good‘»by forever, my dearest husband ; it shall be my daily prayer that God may bless you. "Your affectionate wife, MARY.” Brandon read this in silence, and handed it back. " A strange letter," said Compton. mourn- iully. “ At; first it gave a bitter pang to think of my Mary thus giving me up forever, so coldly, and for no reason ; but afterward I began to understand Why she wr‘ t2 thia." “ My belief is, that these villiane kept my son in their clutches for some good reason, and that they had some equally good reason for keeping her. There’s some mystery about it which I can’t fathom. Perhaps she knew too much about the Colonel‘s efiaire to be allowed to go free. They might have detain- ed her by working upon her love for her son, or simply by terrifying her. She was always a timid soul, poor Mary. That letter is not her composition ; there is not a word there ‘that sounds like her, and they no doubt told her what to write, or wrote out something. and matie her copy it.” “ And now,” said Compton, after another long pause. “ I have got to the end of my story. 1 know nothing more about them. I have lived here ever since, at first. despairing. but of late more resigned to my lot. Yet still if I have one desirg in life it is to get some trace of these dear ones whom I still love as tenderly as ever. You, my dear boy, with your ability may conjecture some way. Besides, you will perhaps be traveling more or less, and may b3 able to hear of their fate. This is the condition that I make. I implore you by your pity for a heart-broken father to do as I say and help me. Half ! why, I would give all that I have if I could get them backragain.” Brandon shuddered perceptiny at the words "heart broken father ;” but he quickly recofilered himself. He took Compton’s hand and pressed it warmly. “ bear friend, I wifi make no objection to any thing, and I promise you that all my best efioma shall be direc‘ed toward finding them out.” “ Tell them to come to me, that I am rich and Pan mgke them happy." " I'll make them go .125- you if they are alive,” said Brandon. “ God bless you 1" ejaculated the old man fennmtly. Brandon spent the greater part of that day in making business arrangements. and in reading the papers which Compton had pre-v served containing an account of the DeSpard murder. It was late at night before he returned to his hozel. As he went into the hall he saw a stranger sitting there in a lounging attitude reading the Sydney News. He was a thin. small-Sized man, with a. foreign air, and quick, restless manner. His features were small, a heavy beard and mous- tache covered his face, his brow was low, and his eyes black and twinkling. A sharp fur~ tive glance which he gave at Brandon attract- ed the attention of the latier, for there was some‘hing in the glance that meant more than idle cusioeity. Even in the midst of his cares Brandon’s curiosity was excited. He walked with assumed indifference up to the desk as though looking for the key of his room. Glancing at the hotel book his eye ranged down the column of names till it rested on the last one. “ Pietro Cigale." â€"Cigole l the name brought singular asso- ciations. Had this man still any connection with Potts ‘2 The words of his father’s letter rushed into his mindâ€"“ His arm may reach even to the antipodes to strike you. Be on your guard. Watch every one. He has some dark plan against you I” Wi'th mega thofights in his mind Brandon went up to his room. “ A MAN OVEBBDABD l” ‘ In so small a. town as Sydney then was. Brandon could hope to learn all that could be learned about Cigole. By casual inquiries he learned that the Italian had come out in the Rival. and had given out that he was agent for a London house in the wool business. He had bought up a considerable quantity which he was preparing to ship. Brandon could not help feeling that there was some rnse about this. Yet he thought, on the other hand, why should he flaunt his name so boldly before the world ? If he is in reality following me Why should he not drop his name 1’ But, then. again, why should he? Perhaps he thinks that I can not possibly know anything about his name‘ Why should I? I was a mere child when Despard was murdered. It may be merely a similarity of names. He wondered to himself whether he had better confide his suspicions to Mr. Compton or not. Yet why should he? The old man would become excited, and feel all sorts of wild hopes about discovering his wife and son. Could it be possible that the Italian after so many years could now afford any clew whatâ€" ever? Certainly it; was not; very probable. Brandbn from time to time had opportuniu ties of hearing more about Gigole. yet always the man seemed absorbed in business. 0.1 the whole Brandon thought that this man. whoever he was or Whatever his purpose might be, would be encountered best by him- self singly. If Mr. Compton took part he would at once awaken Cigole’s team by his clumsmeas. Brandon felt quite ceitein that Mr. Comp- ton would not know anything about Cisole’s presence in Sydney unless he himself told him. For the old man was so filled with trouble at the loss of his partner that he could think of nothing else. and all his thoughts were taken up with closing up the concern so as to send forwexd remittances of money to London as soon as possible. Mr. Compton had arranged for him to draw £2000 on his arrival at London, and three months after~ ward £3000â€"£10,000 would be remitted during the following year. Brandon had come to the conclusion to tell Mr. Compton about Cigole before he left, so that if the man remained in the country he might be bribed or otherwise induced to tell what he knew ; yet thinking it possible that Gigolo had designed to return in the same ship with him, he waited to see how things would turn out. As he could not help as- sociating Cigole in his mind with Potts, so he thought that whichever way he turned this man would try to follow him. His antioipations proved correct. He had taken passage in the ship Java, and two days be. fore the vessel left he learned that .Cigole had. taken his passage in her also, havmg put on board a considerable quantity of wool. On the Whole Brandon felt gratified to hear this, for the close association of a long sea voyage would give him opportunities to test this man, and probe him to the bottom. The thought of danger arising to himself did not enter his mind. He believed that Oigole meant mischief, but he had too much confi- dence in his own powers to fear it. 0n the 5th of hugust the ship Java was ready, and Mr. Compton stood on the quarter- deok to bid good~byefi to Brandon. “ God bless you. dear boy 1 You will find the money coming promptly, and Smithers & Co.’s house is one of the strongest in Lon- don. I have bought you a parting gift," said he, in a low voice. He drew from his pocket a pistol, which in those days was less known than nowâ€"indeed, this was the first of its kind which had reached Australia, and Mr. Crompten had paid a. fabulous price for it " Here,” said he, “ take this to remember me by. ' They call it a. revolver. Here is a box of patent cartridges that go with it. It is from me to you. And mind,” he conâ€" tinued. while there came over his face a vengeful look which Brandon had never seen there before~“ mind, if ever you see John Potts, give him one of those patent cart- CHAPTER III. ridges, and tell him it is the last gift of a. broken hearted father.” Brandon’s face turned ghastly. and his lip& seemed to freeze into a smile of deadly meann ing. 7‘ God bless you I” cried Compton, "I see by your face that you will do it. Good-by." He wrung Brandon’s hand hard and left ship. About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking a cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not appear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively "77‘" Aha, Capitano," said he, in a. foreign ac- cent. “1 have brought Ipy_wqql off at last.’_’ r 7 13711311210117 praced {he de‘izk silently yet watch- fully. The good ship Java. went out with a. fine breeze, which continued for some days, until at last nothing could be seen but the wide ocean. In those few days Brendon had set- tled himself comfortably on board, and had learned pretty well the kind of life which he would have to lead {or the next six months or so. The captain was a. quiet, amiable sort of a. person. without much force of char- acter; the mate was more energetic and somewhat passionate ; the crew consisted of the average sort of men. There was no \chance, certainly, for one of those conspire- cies such as ML Compton had hinted at as havingitaken place on the Vishnu; for in his account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had been made a scape goat for the sins of the others. Brandon was soon on the best of terms‘ with the officers of the ship. As to Cigole it was different. The fact of their being the only passengers on board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw them together; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremest limits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that his purposes would be best served by close association with this man; he hoped that inrthe course of such association he might draw something from Cigole. But Cigole baffled him constantly. He was as polite and courteous as all Italians are; he had an abundance of remarks all ready about the state of the weather, the prospects of the voy- age or the health of the seamen ; but beyond these topics it was difficult to induce him to go. Brandon stifled the resentment which he felt ltoward this man, in his efforts to break down thebarriers of formality which he kept up, and sought to draw him out on the subject of the wool trade. Yet here he was baffled. Gigole always took up the air of a man who was speaking to a rival in business and pretended to be very cautious and guarded in his remarks about wool, as though he feared that Brandon would interfere with his prospects. This sort of thing was kept up with such great delicacy of management on Cigole’s part that Brandon himself would have been completely deceived, and would have come to consider him as nothing more than a speculator in wool, had it not been for a certain deep instinct within him, which made him regard this man as one who was actuated by something far deeper than mere regards for a successful speculation. Gigole managed to baffle the most dexteroue efiorts and the most delicate oontrivances of Brandon. He would acknowledge that he was an Italian. and had been in all parts of Italy. but carefully refrained from telling where he was born. He asserted that this was the first time that he had been in the Eastern seas. He remarked once, casually, that Cigole was a very common name among Italians. He said that he had no acquaintances at all in Engâ€" land, and was only going there now because he heard that there was a good market for wool. At another time he spoke as though much of his life had been passed in Marseilles, and hinted that he was a partner of a comâ€" meraial house here. Cigole never made any advances. and never even met half way those which Brandon made. He was never ofl ins guard for one instant. Polite. smiling. furtive, never lanking Brandon fairly in the face, he usually spoke with a. pro- fusion of bows, gestures, and commonplaces, adopting, in fact, that part which is always at once both the easiest and safest to playâ€"- the noncommittal, gum and p f ct. ,, _1LA_ -n It was cunning, H‘ut low cunning after all, and Brandon perceived that. for one who had some purpose to accomplish with but a com- mon soul to sustain him, this was the most ordinary way to do it. A villain of profounder cunning or of larger spirit would have purr sued a difierent path. He would have con- versed freely and with apparent unreserve ; he would have yielded to all friendly advices, and made them himself ; he would have shown the highest art by cancelling; art, in accordance with the hackneyed proverb, " Are eat celare artem." Brandon despised him as an ordinary villain, and hardly thought it worth his while to take any particular- notice of him. except to watch him in a general way. But Cigole, on the con- trary, was very diflerent. His eyes, which never met those of Brandon fairly, were constantly watching him. When moving about the quar- ter-deck or when sitting in the cabin he usu~ ally had the air ot:a man who was:pretending to be intent on something else, but in reality watching Brandon’s acts or listening to his words. To any other man the knowledge of this would have been in the highest degree irksome. But to Brandon it was gratifying, since it confirmed his suspicions. He saw this man, whose constant efforts were directed to- ward not commiting himself by word, doing that very thing by his attitude. his gesture, and the furtive glance of his eye. Brandon, too, had his part, but it was infinitely greater than that of Cigole, and the purpose that now animated his life was unintelligible to this man who watched him. But Uigole's whole soul was, apparent to Brandon ; and by his small arts, his low cunning. his sly observa~ tion' and many other peculiarities. he exhibit. edfithat which is seen in its perfection in the ordinary spy of despotic countries, such as used to abound most in Rome and Naples in the good old days. For the common Spy of Europe may deceive the English or American traveler ; but the Frenchman, the German. the Spaniard, or the Italian, always recognises him. So Branddn’s supBrior penetration disoov- ereli tpejruepharacger of Cigole. r He believed that this man was the same Ci~ (2,016 who had figured in the afiair of the Vich- nu; that he had been sent out by Potts to do some injury to himself, and that-he was capable of any crime. Yet he could not see how he could do anything. He certainly could not entice the simple minded captain and the honest mate to conspiracy. He was too great a coward to at- tempt any violence. So Brandon concluded that he had simply come to watch him so as to learn his character and carry back to Potts all the knowledge that he might gain. This was his conclusion after a. close asso- ciation of one month with Uigole. Yet he made up his mind not to lose sight of this man. To him he appeared only an agent in villainy, and therefore unworthy of ven- geance; yet he might be made use of as an aid in that vengeance. He therefore wished to have a ciew by which he might afterward find him. “ You and I," said he one day, in conver- sation, “ are bofih in the same trade. It I ever get to England I may wish some time to see you. Where can I find you 2‘ “ Well,” he said at last. “ I do not think that you will wish to see meâ€"” and he hesi- tated ; “ but,” he resumed, with an evil smile, “ if you should by any possibility wish to do so, you can find out where I am by inquiring of Giovanni Oavnllo, 16 Red Lion street, London.” “ Perhaps I may not wish to,” said Bran- don, coolly, “ and perhaps I may. At any rate, if I do, I will remember to inquire of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion street, Lona don." Cigole looked in twenty difieient directions, and hesitated for some time. He spoke with deep emphasis on the ad- dress. Cigole looked uncomfortable, as though he had at last made the mistake which he dreaded, and had committed himself. So the time passed. After the first few days the weather had come quite stormy. Strong head winds, at:- companied ofton by very heavy rains, had to 1 be encountered. In spite of this the ship had a very good passage northward, and met with | no particular obstacle until her course was ‘ turned toward the Indian Ocean. Then all the winds were dead against her, and for weeks 9. succession of long tucks far to the north and to the south brought her but a short distance onward. Every day made the wind more violent and the storm worse. And now the season of the equinox was approach- ' ing, when the monsoons change, and all the winds that sweep over these seas alter their courses. For weeks before and after this ses- son the winds are all unsettled. and it seems as if the elements were let loose. From the first week in September this became manifest snd every day brought them face to face with sterner difficulties. Twice before the captain had been to Australia. -, and (or years he had been in the China. trade ; so that he knew these seas well: but he said that he had never known the equinoctial storms begin so early. and rage with such violence. Opposed by such difficulties as these the ship made but a. slow passageâ€"the beat routes had not yet been discoveredâ€"mud it was the middle of September before they entered the Indian Ucesn. The Weather then became suddenly calm. and they drifted along beyond the latitude of the western ex~ tremity of Java. about a. hundred miles south of the Straits of Bands. Here they began to encounter the China fleet which steers through this “strait, for every day one or more sai s were_ visible. Here they were borne on helplessly hy the ocean currents,which at this place are numeh one and distracted. The streams that flow through the many isles of the Indian archipelago, uniting with the greater southern streams, here meet and blend, causing great dillieulties to navigation, and often baffling even the most experienced seaman. Yet it was not all left to tne currents. for frequenzly and suddenly the storms came up; and the weather. ever changefnl, kept the sailors con. stantly on the alert. Yet between the storms the calms were frequent, and sometimes long contmued, though of such a. Barb as required watchful- ness. For out of the midst of dead mims she storm would suddenly rise in its might, and all the care which experience could sug- gest was not always able to avert disaster. “ I don’t like the weather, Mr. Brandon. It’s the worst. that we could have. especially just here.” “ Why just here 2‘" “ Why, we’re just opposite the Straits of Sunda. the worst place about these parts.” “ What for ‘1" “ Pirates. The Malays, you know. We’re not over well prepared to meet them, I’m afraid. If they come we’ll have to fight them the best way we can ; and these calms are the worst thing for us, because the Malay proaa can get along in the lightest wind, or with ours. when we can’t move at all." vnxo "nu... vvv vv-u .. “nuu u. w... I “ Are the Malays any worse than usua‘; now ‘2” asked Brandon. “ Well, no worse than they’ve been for the last ten yearr. Zangorri is the worst of them all.” “ 'langorri! I‘ve heard of him." “I should mink you had. Why there never was a pirate in these seas who did so much, damage. No mortal knows the ships that. devil has captured and burned.” “ I hope jou‘have arms for the seamen, at any rate." “Oh. we have one howitzer. and small arms for the men, and we will have tovget along the best way we can wiih these ; bus theowu- era ought never to send us out here without a better equipment.” ” I subpése they think“ would cost too much," “ Yes; that‘s it. They think only about the profits, and trust to luck for our safety. Well, I only hope we’ll get safely out of this placeâ€"â€" that's all." And the captain walked off much more ex cited than usual. They drifted on through days of calm which were succeeded by fierce bu: short lived storms, and then followed by calms. Their course lay sometimes north, sometimes south, sometimes nowhere. Thus the time passed, until at length, about the middle of Septem~ her. they came in eight of a long. low island of sand. “ I’ve heard of that send bank before}? said the captain, who showed some surprise at seeing it; “but I didn‘t believe it was here. It’s not down 111 the charts. Here we are three hundred and filty miles southwest of the Straits of Sunda, and the chart makes this place all open water. Well, aeein’e be lievin’ ; and after this I‘ll swear there is such a thing as Ooflin Island." “ Is that the name ‘2” “ That’s the name on 016. see captain gave it, and tried to get the admiralty to put it on the charts, but they wouldn’t. But this is it. and no mistake." - “ Why did he call it Cofiin island ‘1’" “ Well he thought that rock looked like a coffin, and it’s dangerous enough when a fog comes to deserve that name.” Brandon looked earnestly at the island which the captain mentioned, and which they were slowly approaqhing. 7 It lay toward the north. while the ship‘s course, if it had any in that calm, was southâ€" west. It was not more than six miles away. and appeared to be nh‘nut five miles long. At the nearest extremity a black rock arose to a height of about five hundred feet long, and was of such a shape that the imagination might easily see a resemblance to a Collin. At the farthest extremity of the island was a low mound. The rest of the island wasflat. low and sandy, with no trace of vegetation perceptible from the ship. except a line of dingy green under the rock, which looked like grass. The ship drifted slowly on. Meanwhile the captain in anticipation of a storm, had caused all the sails to be taken in, and stood anxiously watching the sky toward the southwest. There a dense mass of clouds lay piled along the horizon, gloomy. lowering, menacing ; frowning over the calm sees as though they would soon destroy that calm, and fling forth all the fury of the winds. These clouds seemed to have started up from the see, so sudden had been their appearance ; and new, as they gathered themselves together, their forms distended, and heightened, and reached forward vest arms into the sky, striv- ing to climb there, rolling upward volumin- ous cloud masses which swiftly ascended to- ward the zenith. So quick was the progress of these clouds that they did not seem to uome from the banks below : but it was rather as though all the air suddenly condenaed its moisture and made it visible} in these dark masses. Asyet there was no wind, and the water was. as smooth as glass; but over the wide surface as far as the eye could reach, the long swell of the ocean had changed into vast rolling 1m- dulmions, to the motion of which the ship yielded. slowly ascending and descending as the waters rose and fell. while the yards creak- ed, and the rigging twanged to the strain upon them. Every moment the sky grew darker, and as gloom zathered above Be it increased below. till all the sea spread out a smooth ebon mass. Darkness settled down. and the sun’s face was thus obscured, and a preternetuml gloom gathered upon the face of nature. Overhead vast black” clouds went sweeping past, cover- ing all things, faster and faster, will at last far down in the northern sky the heavens were all obscured. But amidst all this there was yet not a breath of wind. F 211‘ above the wind careered in a narrow current, which did not touch the surface of the sen but only bore onward the clouds. The agitation of the sky above can trusted with the stillness below made the lat» ter not consoling but rather fearful, for this could be none other than that treacherous stillness which preoeeds the sudden outburst of the hurieane, For that sudden outburst all were now look- ing. expecting it every moment. On the side of the ship where the wind was expected the captain was standing, looking anxiously at the black clouds on the horizon, and all the crew were gazing there in sympathy with him. From that quarter the wind would burst, and it was for this assault that all the preparm tious had been made. ‘ For some time Brandon had watchell the‘ collecting clouds, but at length he turned away, and seemed to find. a. nupteme fascinaâ€" tion in the sand lmnlc. He stood at the stem of the ship, looking fixedly toward the deck. his arms iolded, and his thoughts all absorbed in that one thing. A loTv railing mu around the quartetdeck. The holmsman stood in a sheltered place which rose only two feet above the deck. The captain etooul by the companion- Way, looking south at the storm, the mate was ‘near the captain, and all were intent end ab~ lrorbed in their expectatinn of a sudden squall. Close by the rudder-post stood Cigole,1uok ing with all the rest at the gathering storm. His face was only half turned, and as usual he watched this with only a flll‘tlve glance, for at times his steady glance turned toward Brandon ; and he alone of all on board did not; seem to be absorbed by some overmnmering thoughtt Suddenly a faint, fluttering ripple appeared to the aouthwerd ; ll came quickly ; it seemed to flash uverthe waters; with the speed of the wind it, moved on, tilla quick, fresh blag}: struck the ship and sighed through the rigging. Then a faint breathing of wind succeeded ; but far away there rose a low moan like that which arises from some vest cataract at a great distance, whose roar, subdued by dis- tance, sounds faintly, yet warningly to the ear. iuuuu, uuuuuu “mung, Jun vvu|ulu5nJ v.1 .uo o... At the first touch of the tempest, and the menacing voice of its approach, noha word was spoken, but all 531001 mule. Brandon alone appeared not to have noticed it. He still stood with folded arms and absorbed air, gazing at the island. v The rear oi the WIHCI‘S in the distance grew louder, and in the direction from which in came the dark water was all white with foam, and the boiling flood advanced nearer in myriad numbered waves, which seemed now like an army rushing to the charge, tossing on high its crested heads and its countless foam plumes, and threatening 1.0 beat down 8.11 before it. At last the tornado struck. At the first blast of the storm the ship rolled far met, the masts cranked and groaned, the waves rushed up and dashed'against the aide. At that instant Cigole darled quickly toward Bl‘andon,and the moment that the vessel yield- ed to the blow of the storm he fell violently against him. Beiore Brandon had noticed the storm or had mime to steady himself he had pushed him headlong over the rail and helplessly into the sea~ Cigole clung to the rail, and instantly shrieked out : “ Man overboard 1” The startling cry rang through the ship. The captain turned round with a face of agony. i V“ Man overboard !” shouted Gigole again “Help I Iq’s B‘mndroq 11’ O God !" He took up a hen coop from its fastenings and flung it into the 5631, and a couple ofpsfls after it. He then looked aloft and to the south with eyes of despair. He could do nothing. For new the storm was upon them, and the ship was plunging furiously through the waters with the speed of a race horse at; the touch of the gale. On the lee side lay the sand bank, now only three miles away, whose unknown shallows made their present posi~ tion perilous in the excreme. The ship could not turn to try and save the lost passenger ; it was only by keeping straighk on that there was any hope of avoiding that lee shore. All on board shared the captain’s despair, for all saw that nothing could be done. The ship was at the mercy of the hurricane. To turn was impossible. If they could save their own lives now it would be as much as they could do. Away went the shipanway, farther and farther, every moment leaving at a greater distance the lost man who struggled in the waters. But by this time the storm was '94; its height ; the {ship could 110$ maintain its pro- per course, but yielding to the gale, fled to the northwest far out of its right direction. At last they had passed the dangcr, the is- land was left behind, and the white sea. lay all around. CHAPTER 1V. SINKING IN DEEP WATER. Brandon, overwhelmed by the rush of waters, half suffocated, and struggling in the rush of the waves, shrieked out a few despairâ€" ingacriee for help, and sought to Keep his head above water, as best he could. But his cries werebome off by the fierce WiDdE, and the ship as it careered madly before the blast was soon out. of heating. He was a. first rate swimmer. but in a sen. like this it needed all his strength and all his skill to save himself Item impending death. Encumbered by his clothes it was still more difficult. yet so fierce was the rush of wind and wave that he dared not stop for a mo main in his struggles in order to divest him- self of his clothing. Efforts like these. however, were too ex- haustive to be long continued. Nature failed, and already a wild despair came over him. For a quaiter of an hour longer he had con- tinued his exertions ; and now~ the island was so near that a quarter of an hour more might bring him to it. But even that exertion of strength was now no longer possible. Faintly and feehly, and with failing limbs and fieree~ ly-throbbing heart, he toiled on, until at lost any further effort seemed impossible. Before him was the mound which he noticed from the ship. He was at the western extremity of the island. He saw that he was being carried At first. by a mere blind instinct, he tried to swim after the ship, as though by any possibility he could ever reach her egaiu. but the hurricane was against him, and he was forced sideways for out of ihe courts which he was trying to take. At last; the full poeeession of his senses was restored, and following the ship no longer, he re- turned toward the direction where that send island lay which had. been the cause of his disaster. At first it was hidden from view by the swell of waves that roeein front. but. soon rising upon the crest of one of these he perceived far away the dark form of the coflin shaped rock. Here then before him lay the island, and towards this both Wind and wave impelled him. A half hour‘s struggle, which seemed like many hours, had brought him much nearer to the island, but his strength was almost exv hsustei. His clothes, caught in the rush of the waves, and clinging to him, confined the free action of his limbs. and lent an addition- ul weight. Another half hour's exeltion might possibly bring him to the shore, but that exâ€" ertion hardly seemed poselble. It was bus with dilficulty now that he could strike out. Often the rush of waves from behind would overwhelm him, and it was only by convulsive efioxts that he was able to surmount the rag lug billows and regain his breath. But the rock was far to the light, and it might be that the island dial not extend far enough to meet him as he neared it. Is was about five miles in length, but. in his efforts he might not be able to reach even the wes- tern extremity. Still there was nothing else to do but. to try. Resolutely, therefore, though half despairingly, he put forth his best strength, and struggled manfully to win the shore. That lone and barren sand-bank, after all, ofiered but a. feeble chance for life. Even if he did reach is, which was doubtful. what could he do? Starvation mateiid of drown- ing would be his fate. More than once it occurred to him that it would be better than and shore to give up all efforts and let‘. him- self go. But Lhen there some the thought of thosa dear ones who waited for him in Eng- land, Lthe thought of the villain who had thrown him from the ship, and the greater villain who had sent him out on his murder- ous errand. He could not bear the idea that they should triumph over him so easily and so quickly. His vengeance should not ha taken from him; it had been baffled, but it still nerved his arm. “ Brandon I” cried the captain. “He’s lost ! â€"41if]11iL1{LS])l‘OjePit in uudm l’rempiiem.” in such a direction that even if he did strug- gle on he might be borne helplessly past bha island and out into the @pen 39a. Already 1m could look past the island, and see the wide expanse of whine foamng waves Which threat- ened no engulf him. The sight weakened what little strenth was left, and made his efforts even feebler. Despairingly he looked around, not knowing what he sought, but seeking still for something, he knew not what. 111 that last look of despair his eye caught sight of something which at once gave him renewed hope. It was not far away Borne along by the waves in was but a few yards distant, and alittie behind him. It was the hen coop which the captain of the Java. had thrown overboard so as to give Brandon aohance £0r1ife. That last chance was now thrown in his way, for the hen coop had followed the same course with himseli, ‘ :md had been swept. along no: very far from ‘ him. Brandon was nerved to new efforts by the sight of this. He turned and exerted the last remnants of his strength in order to reach this means of safety. It; was near enough to be accessible, A few vigorous strokes, a. few struggles with the wave, and his hands clutched the bars with the grasp 01 a drowning man. It was a large hen coop. capable of keeping several men afloat. Brandon clung to this and at last had rest. Every minute of regpite from such struggles as he had carried on re‘ stored. his strength to a greater degree. He could now keep his head high out of the Wfl~ ter and avoid the engulfing fury of 1.119 waves behind; Now at last. he could take a. batter survey of the prospect before him, and see more plainly whither he was going. The sand bank lay before him; the mound at the western extremity was in front of him. not very far away. The rock which lay at; the eastern end was now at a great; distance, for he had been swept by the current abreusn of the island. and was even now in danger of being carried past it. Still there was hope, for wind and wave were blowing directly to- ward the island, and there was at chance of his being carried full upon its shore. Yetthe chance was a slender one, for the set of the tide rather carried him beyond the line of the western extremity. Every minute brought him nearer, and soon hi3 fate would be decided. Nearer and nearer he came, still clinging to the hemooop, and making no efforts whatever, but reserving and collecting together all his strength. so as to put it forth at: the final hour of need. But. as he came nearer the island appeared to move more and more out of the line of his approach. Under these circumsnuces his only chance was to float; as near as possibka, and then make a. last effort to reach the land. Nearer and nearer he came. At last he was close by it, but: the extreme point of the island lay to the right more than twenty yards. This was the crisis of his fame, for now if he floated on [my longer he would be carried farther away. ' The shore was here low but steep, the waters appeared to be deep, and a. heavy surf dashed upon the island, and threw up its spray far over the mound. He was so near tnat he could distinguish the pebbles on the beach, and could see beyond the mound along, flat surface with thm grass growing. Beyond this point WM; another a hundred yards away, but farther out of his reach, and affordng no hope whatever. Between the two points there was an ink}? into the lslnnd showing a listle cove : but; t e surf just here became wilder, and long rollers careered one past another over the intervening space. It was a hopeless prospect. Yet it was his last chance. Brandon made up his mind. He let go the henncoop, and summoning up all his strength he struck out for the show. But; this tune the wind and sea were against him, hearing him past the point, and the waves dashed over him more quickly and furiously than before. He was swept past the point before 116th made half a dozen strokes ;he was borne on still struggl- ing: and now on his left; lay the rollers which he had seen. In spite of his efforts he was furâ€" that away from the island than when he had left the hen-coop. Yet all hope and all life de- pended upon the issue of this last el’foxt. The fifteen 0r twenty minutes of resz ’and of breathing-space which he had gained had been of immense advantage, and he struggled with 9.11 the force which could be inspired by the newness of safety. Yet, after all, human ef- forts can not withstand the fury of the ele- ments, and here against this strong sea. the strongest swimmer could not hope to contend successfully. He swam toward the shore, but the wind striking him from one side, and urging on the sea, drove him sideways. Som’e progress was made. but the force of the waters was {earn ful. and for every foot that he moved forward he was carried six feet to leeward. He him- self saw this, and calculating his chances he perceived with despair that he was already beyond the first point, and that at the present rate there was no possibility of gaining the farther point. Already the waves leaped exultingly about him, dashing over him now more wildly, since he was exposed more than before to their full sweep. Already the rollers lay close beside him on hisleft. Then it seemed as though he would be engulted. Turning his head backward with a last faint thought of trying to regain the hen-coop, so as to prolong life somewhat, he saw it far away out of his reach. Then all hope left him. He was now at the outermost line of rollers. At the moment that. he turned his head a. huge wave raised him up and bore him for- ward, He struggled still, even in that time of despair, and fought with. his enemies. They bore him onward. however. none the less helplessly, and descending carried him with them. _ He could not move. It was late ', night came on, but; he lay where he had fullenmntil at last he 1011 into a sound sleep. That shore was at last attained. He stag- gered up a. few paces on the sandy «ieclivny, and flex: fell down exhausted upon the ground. â€"No, Clementina. ibless your impulsive heart, no V. The bullfinch doesn’t Wearhnrna. For as the wave flung him downward his feet touched bottom, and he stood for a mo- ment erect. on solid, hard'sund. in water that scarcely reached his knees. It was for a. moment only that he hood, however, for tha sweep of the water hot him down, and he fell forward. Before he could regain himnelf another wave came and hurled him farmer forward. But now at last, as he descended with that wave. hope came back, and all his despair vanished, At length he reached a place where the rol~ lers were of less dimensions. Hie progress became more rapid. until at length the water became exceedingly shallow. being not more than a foot in depth. Here the first point, where the mound was, protected in from the wind and sea. This was the cove which he had nuticed. The water was all white with foam, but ofi’ered scarcely any resistance to him. He had but to wade onward to mlle shore. By a violent effort he staggered to his feet. In an instant he comprehended his position. At this western end the island descended gently into the water, and the shoal which it formed extended for miles away. It was this shoal xha-t. caused the long rollers that came over them so vehemently, and in such marked contrast with the more abrupt waves of the sea behind. Now he had foothold. Now the ground he- neath lent its aid to his endeavor : be was no longer altogether at the mercy of the water. He bounded lorward toward the shore in such a. direcm'on that he could approach it Without oppming himself entirely to the waves. The point that stretched out was now within 1115 reach. The waves rolled passed it, but by moving in an oblique direc’uion he could gain it. In an instant he had comprehended this, and had taken his (mursc of action. Never 1 ween was 3“ 1111mm 111 such an owl case.” TO BE CONTINUED.