"What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Watson, when Levi had been effectually ironed, so that he could not tear the constable and his assistant to pieces, as they seemed to fear he would.

"I do not know, sir," replied Levi, shaking his head, with a smile.

"I think it is all clear enough, Mr. Watson," interposed Constable Cooke.

"I don't think it is," replied Mr. Watson, sharply. "You have found a shot-bag with ten five-dollar gold pieces in it. What does that prove?"

"It proves that Levi stole the money just as clear as the sun proves it's day."

"Is it anything surprising that the captain of a yacht has fifty dollars in gold in his state-room?"

"I don't know's 'tis, but it's sunthin surprisin' that he should have one of the bags the old man kept his money in, in his state-room," said the officer, with a sneer.

"How do you know that is one of the bags?"

"How do I know?" repeated the constable, taking the bag from his pocket. "Mr. Fairfield told me he writ his name on all the bags. There it is."

The bag was exhibited, and over the imprint of the manufacturers of the shot it had originally contained was the name, "N. Fairfield," rudely traced in large, awkward characters, in pencil, on the cloth. Levi saw it, and the formation of the two capital letters assured him it had been written by his uncle. The bag was found in one of his drawers; but it was plain that "an enemy had done this."

"If that don't satisfy you, Mr. Watson, I don't know what will. This ain't pleasant business, but I can't help it," added Constable Cooke, who perhaps had begun to think it was imprudent to offend a rich man.

"That doesn't satisfy me," replied the obstinate merchant. "Do you suppose Levi put that bag and the gold into the drawer?"

"I suppose he did, sir. That's his state-room—isn't it?"

"There are half a dozen places there with locks on them. Do you think he would put his money into a drawer without any lock upon it?"

"I don't know anything about that," answered the constable, who could not help seeing that the argument was a good one. "I've got a warrant for his arrest."

"Did you know the money was there before you came on board?" demanded Mr. Watson, warmly.

"I supposed it was there."

"What made you suppose so?"

"I was told it was there."

"Who told you so?"

"I don't know as I'm obliged to tell you who told me," replied the officer.

"I don't know that you are, either; but some of you shall be indicted for conspiracy if you don't answer. You came on board with a warrant in your pocket for the arrest of Captain Fairfield. You expected to find the gold here, you say. Somebody told you it was here, and that somebody knows more about it than the person you have arrested and put in irons," continued the merchant, indignantly.

"You know why I put him in irons. Didn't he threaten to throw one of us overboard?" replied the constable.

"When officers take graduates of the state prison to assist them in the discharge of their duties, they must expect some opposition."

"But Captain Vincent is acting for Mr. Fairfield, who's too sick to do anything himself," pleaded the officer, who could not help seeing that Dock was not a proper person to aid him in the performance of his duty. "I'll take the bracelets off, if you say so."

"I do say so, most emphatically!" added Mr. Watson.

Constable Cooke removed the irons, stepping between Levi and Bessie to do so.

"So long as you and your father do not believe I am guilty of any crime, I don't care for the irons or the prison," said Levi, cheerfully. "I am rather glad of an opportunity to vindicate myself, for I have no doubt there are some people who think I took my uncle's money."

"But it is so terrible to be sent to prison, and to be ironed!" added Bessie, her pretty face full of tender sympathy.

"Not at all. As I view it, the guilt is the only thing that is terrible. This may lead to the discovery of the real thief."

"Levi, have you any idea how that bag came in your state-room?" asked Mr. Watson.

"Not the least, sir. It must have been put there by the thief, or by some one acting for him."

"We shall not make our trip to-day—that is clear enough. Come, Mr. Cooke, we will go on shore, and inquire into this matter at once," continued Mr. Watson. "Levi, you must send all hands to the office of Squire Saunders, for probably we shall want their evidence."

The four young men who constituted the crew of the yacht lived in Rockport, and knew all about the relations of Levi with his uncle. They were directed to go ashore, with the cook and steward, and appear at the office of the trial justice. Levi was taken in charge by Constable Cooke, and went in his boat, with Dock Vincent, much against his will.

"We are likely to have a sharp time on't," said the officer, when they had pushed off from the yacht.

"Why so? What's up now?" demanded Dock.

"Mr. Watson has sent all hands ashore, and I suppose he'll have Squire Cleaves, who's as sharp as a razor new set, and he'll rake us all over the coals."

"What's going to be done, Levi?" asked Dock, turning to the prisoner.

"I have nothing to say about it," replied Levi.

"What did you send all hands on shore for?"

"I shall answer no questions."

"Afraid of committing yourself, I suppose," said Dock, with a sneer, which did not wholly conceal his anxiety.

Levi made no reply. Without being willing, in the absence of some evidence, even to suspect Dock of stealing his uncle's money, he could not help feeling that the antecedents of his old enemy warranted him in thinking that he had something to do with the robbery, or, at least, with fastening the charge upon him, and causing the shot-bag to be placed in his state-room. The party landed, and while Constable Cooke conveyed his prisoner to the office of the justice, Dock called at Mr. Fairfield's to inform him of the arrest.

The old man was somewhat better, and able to sit up in his rocking-chair; but his bones still ached, though he suffered less in body than in mind. Dock called upon him every day, and assured him he would find his gold in time. On the present occasion he had encouraging news, and related the particulars of the events which had occurred on board of the yacht.

"I knowed it!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfield, when he had listened to Dock's story. "I was sartain that boy took the money."

"I suppose it's a clear case enough now," added Dock. "Finding the bag with your name on it settles the matter."

"But did you find all the money, Cap'n Vincent?" asked the old man, nervously.

"No; only about fifty dollars of it."

"Didn't find no more?" added Mr. Fairfield, with a blank stare.

"No, but we shall find the rest of it. Mr. Watson's going to make an awful fuss about it."

"About what?"

"About taking Levi up. I suppose they'll want you to swear to the bag."

"But I can't go out," said the old man with a grunt, when reminded of the pains in his frame.

"Then the squire must come here, as he did when you swore before. I'll go up, and see about it. But, Squire Fairfield, I shan't be able to do much more for you, for I expect my vessel round here soon, and I shall be busy fixing her up for the voyage to Australia."

"I hope I shall find the money afore you go," added the old man, with a gloomy look.

"I hope so too, and I expect you will," replied Dock, as he left the room to attend the examination.

In the mean time Levi had been conveyed to the office of Squire Saunders, who, deeming the evidence of Mr. Fairfield absolutely necessary, had decided to hold his court at the house of the miser; and the old man was soon astonished by the appearance of the whole crowd of officers, counsel, justice, and witnesses in his chamber.

Mr. Fairfield was examined first. He testified, with many a sigh and groan, that he had deposited the four bags, each containing one thousand dollars in gold, in the hole in the wall, which was pointed out to the justice. He had marked his name on each bag, and he identified that produced by Constable Cooke as one of the four. He was asked if the ten half eagles were his property. He was disposed to swear to them also; he had no doubt they were part of the money he had lost; but when asked to state by what marks he recognized them, he was unable to show wherein they differed from other coins of the same value.

The officer then swore that he found the bag in a locker in the state-room, with the money in it. Squire Cleaves, who had already been fully instructed in the case by Mr. Watson, began to put disagreeable questions to him, which appeared to make him nervous.

"You went off to the yacht with a search-warrant—did you, Mr. Cooke?" asked the lawyer.

"I did, sir."

"Did you expect to find the money or the bag on board?"

"I did."

"Had any one told you the bag was there?"

"Well, I can't say any one told me it was there," replied Cooke, with some embarrassment.

"You can't?"

"No, sir; I can't."

"What induced you to look for the money on board of the yacht?"

"I was pretty well satisfied that Levi stole that money, and being he was goin' off on a cruise, I thought likely he would put some on't on board to use. That's what made me expect to find it there," added Constable Cooke, with a more satisfied expression on his face, for the explanation he had given appeared to meet the exigencies of the case.

"Did you reason this out yourself, or did some one suggest the idea to you?"

"Well, some one spoke to me about it, but——"

"Precisely so! Who spoke to you about it?"

"No one said much to me, and I——"

"But who said anything?" interposed the squire.

"Well, Captain Vincent said I might find the bag—he didn't say I should find it."



CHAPTER X.

MR. C. AUGUSTUS EBENIER.

Squire Cleaves had brought out from the unwilling witness the fact that he wanted, and Dock Vincent was put upon the stand. The learned counsel adroitly conveyed the information that the witness had been convicted of crime, and had served a term in the state prison—which, though it did not exclude him from giving evidence, might affect his credibility. This statement roused the ire of Dock, and he was cross and sullen, which is a very bad state of mind to be in when subjected to the torture of a skilful lawyer.

Dock described the manner in which he had assisted Mr. Fairfield in finding his money. He had done all that an honest man and a good neighbor should do to help a feeble old man; and it wasn't right for "one-horse lawyers" to insult him.

"Do you consider yourself insulted, Captain Vincent?" asked the squire.

"Yes, sir; I do!"

"Have you been convicted of a crime?"

"What if I have? There was no justice in it," growled Dock.

"Have you served a term in the state prison?"

"If I have, it wasn't a fair thing; and a good many better men than you or me have spent years in prison."

"Undoubtedly, but our best men don't usually graduate at the state prison. You admit the facts as I stated them. Now, Captain Vincent, you were employed by Mr. Fairfield in finding the money he lost."

"I said so; I was."

"Did you tell the constable he would find the bag on board of the yacht?"

"No, sir; I did not."

"What did you tell him?"

"In my opinion, Levi stole that money. I didn't think so at first, but his uncle convinced me he must have done it. I told the constable to look for the money and the bags on board that vessel."

"Didn't you tell him he would find this bag in Levi's state-room?"

"No, sir; I did not."

"Didn't you tell him he might expect to find it there?"

"Perhaps I did; whether I did or not, I expected he would find it there," answered Dock, casting a malicious glance at Levi.

"Why did you expect he would find it there?"

"Because I was satisfied Levi stole the money, and would use some of it while he was gone on the cruise."

"Was that the only reason?"

"It was."

"Captain Vincent, do you know how that bag came in Levi's state-room?" asked the lawyer, looking upon the floor, as though he considered the question of little consequence.

"Yes, sir; I do."

"Please to state how it came there."

"Levi put it there."

"You are willing to swear that Levi put it there—are you?"

"Yes, sir; I am," replied Dock, promptly.

"Did you see him put it there?"

"Of course I didn't. I never was aboard of that yacht till this morning."

"How can you swear that he put it there, then?"

"Because Constable Cooke found it there."

"Is that the only ground on which you swear Levi put it there himself?"

"That's ground enough."

"Answer my question, if you please."

"Yes, it is; and my belief that Levi robbed his uncle of his money."

"That will do; we shall give you the little end of the horn to crawl out of before we get through," added Squire Cleaves.

Dock, sour and crabbed, sat down near the rocking-chair of Mr. Fairfield; and Mr. Caesar Augustus Ebenier, cabin steward of The Starry Flag, Sr., was politely invited to take the stand. He appeared in his best clothes, and his name, quality, and position on board of the yacht were duly elicited by the magistrate.

"What do you know about the money or the bag?" asked Squire Saunders.

"I know all about it, your honor," replied the witness, with a radiant smile.

"Who put them in the locker, where they were found?"

"I did, your honor."

"That nigger's been bribed to say that," interposed Dock, savagely.

"Who do you call a nigger?" demanded Mr. Caesar Augustus Ebenier, stepping briskly up to Dock, with his fists doubled up for use. "I never was convicted of crime and sent to the state prison."

"Order!" called the justice.

Dock was the more disturbed of the two; but the constable quieted him, while Mr. Watson patched up the wounded dignity of the cabin steward, who was doubtless a much better man than Dock. He had formerly been the body servant of a French gentleman in Louisiana, and he could read and write, and spoke French fluently. He wrote his name "C. Augustus Ebenier," and he insisted that his surname should be pronounced A-ba-ne-a. He was a person of no little importance in his own estimation, and had a southern negro's contempt for mean whites, of whom Dock Vincent seemed to be the meanest specimen he had yet seen.



"Now, Mr. Ebony, we will proceed with this examination."

"A-ba-ne-a, if you please, your honor," suggested the witness, with the politest of bows.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Ebenier," said the justice, with a smile. "You placed the bag and the money in the locker—did you?"

"I did, your honor; in the captain's locker: but I didn't comprehend what was in the bag at the particular moment when it was in my possession."

"Exactly so."

"I was not precisely informed in regard to the nature of the contents of the bag, which was agglomerated in a mass, and exceedingly heavy for the bulk of the parcel, appearing to consist only of a portion of tow cloth."

"Just so, Mr. Ebenier; we are fortunate in being able to understand you."

"I beg your honor's pardon, but the initial E in my surname should be pronounced like long a."

"Excuse me, monsieur," laughed the justice; "but my French is rather rusty. Will you do me the favor to indicate in what manner the bag and its contents came into your possession."

"With pleasure, your honor. Yesterday afternoon, just previous to Captain Fairfield's going on shore——"

"Who?" asked Squire Saunders, who was not familiar with Levi's new title.

"Captain Fairfield, your honor."

"You mean Levi?"

"No, your honor; far be it from me to commit the gross disrespect of calling the captain of the yacht in which I sail by his Christian name. Captain Levi Fairfield, your honor."

"Go on, then. I know whom you mean."

"Yesterday afternoon, just as Captain Fairfield was going on shore—I disremember the precise time, but it was about five o'clock, post meridian."

"That is sufficiently accurate, Mr. Ebenier. Do me the favor to proceed."

"I beg your honor's pardon, but these interruptions have a tendency to prevent me from following accurately and succinctly the thread of my narrative."

The magistrate bowed, and laughed, as all in the room were doing except Dock and Mr. Fairfield. The witness commenced his story again, repeating everything he had said before; and the squire did not deem it prudent to interrupt him again.

"I was located in a standing position near the entrance to the main cabin; and your honor is aware that, in first-class yachts, the descent commences in the standing-room, which in New York yachts is more frequently called the cockpit. At a distance of not more than a quarter of a marine league from our yacht lay a fishing schooner, which I was informed by those who probably possessed an accurate knowledge of the intended movements of the schooner, though I really could not now state to your honor the names of the parties from whom I received this intimation——"

"Not material," interposed the squire.

"The information I received may prove to be material, your honor. I was credibly informed that the vessel intended to sail for the Grand Banks or the coast of Labrador, I cannot now swear which, or, indeed, if it was either of these localities. Possibly it was either, possibly it was neither, or possibly it was both. I wish it particularly understood that, under the solemnity of an oath, I do not state positively where the vessel was going. Suffice it to say that she was going on a fishing voyage; but whether for cod, haddock, mackerel, or halibut, or either, or all, or a portion of these piscatorial inhabitants of the mighty deep, I am entirely unable to say."

The court, counsel, and witnesses, with the exceptions before noted, roared with laughter; and the cabin steward smiled complacently, as though he was conscious of having made a point.

"I can only observe, under oath, that I was informed that the vessel intended to depart in search of some of the numerous ichthyological specimens that roam in finny herds through the boundless depths of the sea—as soon as the tide turned."

"Excuse me, Mr. Ebenier, but what has all this to do with the money and the bag?" asked the justice, choking down his laughter.

"I trust I shall be able to demonstrate, to the entire satisfaction of your honor, that there is an intimate connection between these circumstances and the suspicious articles discovered in the state-room of Captain Fairfield."

"Go on, then. It is almost dinner time."

"A doray—an exceedingly anomalous craft to a resident of New York, where I have had the honor to reside for several seasons—a doray——"

"You mean a dory—don't you?"

"I am really unable to pronounce the word according to any authorized orthography, as it was never my good fortune to see the word in print. I am not informed whether or not the acute accent is placed over the final e."

"There is no e in the word. D-o-r-y."

"Ah, excuse me! It is not a French word, then, and it is quite proper to call it a dory."

"Precisely so; and now, having settled this important point, that it is a dory, and not a doray, will you inform the court where you got the bag and the money?" said Squire Saunders, beginning to be a little impatient.

But he might as well have attempted to make water run up hill as to induce Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier to relate his story in any other than his own way.

"A dory from the fishing vessel, about to depart on her voyage, paid a visit of courtesy to the Starry Flag. The party which came in the dory consisted of three persons, all of them fishermen, and all of them young men. All, or a portion of them, were evidently personal friends of the four worthy young men who collectively constitute the crew of the yacht, of which I have the honor to be cabin steward. The persons who came on board were not cabin visitors; I am not even aware that they paid their respects to our excellent captain; but I feel compelled to add that, while on board, they behaved with the utmost propriety. I was located——"

"Avast there!" exclaimed the justice. "The court is adjourned till after dinner. I hope the distinguished gentleman will be able to spin out his yarn before bed time."



CHAPTER XI.

THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION.

The dignity of the court had been effectually swamped by the grandiloquence of Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier, though it was evident that he was a very important witness. Of course no one was invited to dine at the miser's, and the court and witnesses went home to dinner. As a compromise, Constable Cooke was asked to dine with his prisoner at Mr. Watson's. At the appointed hour in the afternoon the court again assembled in the house of the miser.

"Mr. Ebenier," said Squire Saunders, "you had proceeded in your narrative, when the court adjourned, to the point where four of the crew of the fishing vessel, about to depart in search of ichthyological specimens, came on board of the yacht, which has the honor to have your valuable services as steward."

"I beg your honor's pardon; I had the honor, not the yacht," interposed Mr. Ebenier, bowing.

"Well, I should say that the honors were divided," replied the justice; and his remark was regarded as a judicial joke. "If you could commence where you left off; and go on, I should be under very great obligations to you."

"I will make a persistent effort to do so, your honor," added the obliging Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier. "As I had the honor to hear your honor remark, the three young men from the fishing vessel, about to depart, as aforesaid, were on board of our yacht, as aforesaid, and as I was standing near the cabin door, as aforesaid,—now my narrative progresses, your honor,—one of the young men from the fishing schooner aforesaid, as Captain Fairfield was about to go over the side into his boat, rushed up to me with the bag in his hand."

"You mean the shot-bag containing the gold—do you?" asked the squire, now deeply interested in the substance of the story.

"I do, your honor; perhaps I should have said the bag aforesaid, which I thought I had described with sufficient minuteness. The bag had originally contained shot, if the words printed on it can be relied upon——"

"In the name of the Constitution of the United States, don't repeat the description of the bag!" protested the squire. "One of the young men rushed up to you with the bag in his hand."

"The bag aforesaid, then, your honor. I affirm that he rushed up to me, meaning that he walked briskly and rapidly towards me. He placed the bag—the bag aforesaid, your honor—in my hand, extended for the purpose of receiving it when I understood that he wished to commit it to my keeping."

"Precisely so; what did he say?"

"He observed that the captain desired me to place the parcel—by which I mean the bag aforesaid, with its contents, not then known to me—in one of the lockers in his state-room. As nearly as I can remember, though I should not be willing to swear to the precise phraseology of the language he used, his words were, 'The captain wants you to put this into the locker in his state-room.'"

"Didn't you ask him what it was?"

"No, your honor; I never ask any questions when the captain's orders come to me. It is my duty to obey, without knowing the reasons for the action I am directed to take. I went immediately to the captain's state-room, and deposited the parcel—the bag aforesaid—in one of the empty lockers. I supposed from its weight that it contained nails, hinges, screws, or some other species of hardware."

"Did you see the captain hand it to the person who gave it to you?"

"No, your honor, I did not. Under the painfully disagreeable circumstances which have followed the denouement of the depositing of the bag aforesaid in the locker, I wish to add, if my humble opinion is of any value to this honorable court, that I do not believe the captain gave the bag aforesaid to the person of whom I received it."

"Do you know the name of the man who gave it to you?" asked Squire Cleaves.

"I can only reply that I heard him called Ben,—which I presume is an abbreviation of Benjamin,—when addressed by his companions."

"It was Ben Seaver," said Levi. "He was on board at the time mentioned."

"I have no knowledge whatever in regard to his patronymic," added the cabin steward.

"Why do you say you don't believe the captain handed it to Ben?" continued the justice.

"Because, your honor, the circumstances do not justify such a conclusion on my part. It is not reasonable to suppose——"

"Confine yourself to the facts, Mr. Ebenier. We do not care to listen to an argument," interposed the justice.

"I beg your honor's pardon; to facts, then, will I confine myself. The captain went directly from the cabin to his boat, and the person whom his companions called Ben came to me directly from the forecastle. I did not see him hold any communication with the captain, though he paused for a moment at the gangway, and looked over the rail into the boat."

"Might not the captain have handed him the package then?"

"I don't think it was possible, your honor."

"What were the men on the forecastle doing?"

"They were coiling away a spare cable—all but Bob Thomas, who was to pull the captain ashore; and the visitors were assisting them."

"That will do, Mr. Ebenier; we are much obliged to you for the lucid manner in which you have given your testimony, which is very important," said Squire Saunders.

Bob Thomas, who had pulled the captain ashore, and who had been in the boat with him at the time when he was alleged to have sent the bag to the steward, was next questioned. He had neither seen the bag, nor seen Levi speak to Ben Seaver. The rest of the crew were examined, but nothing was elicited from them. Each of them was asked what had passed between Ben and himself, but the conversation related entirely to fish and fishing. Mat Mogmore seemed to be slightly confused, which was attributed to bashfulness, for his statements were as square as those of his shipmates.

Ben Seaver, who appeared to be the only person that could solve the mystery, had gone on a fishing voyage, and might not return for two months or more. No one had seen him at the fire, when the money was stolen; and it was not probable that he was the original thief, whatever part he might have been employed to perform by the guilty party.

Levi himself was then examined at great length. His statements, covering the time from the fire down to the present moment, were clear and positive. He knew nothing about the money; he had not given the bag to Ben Seaver; had not spoken to him, except to pass the time of day with him as an old acquaintance. When Dock and Mr. Fairfield declared that Levi hated his uncle, Mrs. Fairfield disproved the statement by adducing all the kind acts he had performed.

Squire Cleaves, for the defendant, then reviewed the testimony for and against his client.

"It certainly has not been shown that Levi stole this money," said he. "Nor has sufficient evidence been brought against him to render it probable that he is guilty; not enough to justify your honor in committing him for trial. This investigation has led us to follow the bag from the captain's state-room to the hands of Ben Seaver. There we are blocked, and can go no farther till this person's return from his voyage. Mr. Watson proposes to charter a steamer, send her after the fishing vessel, and bring back Ben Seaver. Then we can follow the bag until it leads us to the feet of a conspiracy against my client."

"It is not necessary to send any steamer after the witness," said the justice. "The only evidence, in this long examination, which has been brought against the prisoner, is, that the bag was found in his state-room. It has been shown, conclusively, that he did not place it there, and probably did not cause it to be placed there. The defendant is discharged." And Squire Saunders rose from his seat at the table.

The decision, though it had not been unexpected, caused a decided sensation in the little audience assembled in the miser's chamber. Dock Vincent was mad, Mr. Fairfield was in despair, and the constable was disappointed. The victim had escaped, and the miser had obtained no clew to the lost treasure. The justice took possession of the bag and its contents, to be used when Ben Seaver returned. The audience dispersed to talk over the event among themselves.

Levi's friends, including Mr. Gayles, who had listened with the deepest interest to the proceedings, were satisfied that the whole affair was a conspiracy. Mr. Watson's theory was, that Dock Vincent had robbed the miser himself, and had employed the absentee to place the bag in Levi's room, intending himself to be on the way to Australia before Seaver returned. As the matter stood, nothing could be proved. But Mr. Gayles declared that he should watch Dock Vincent and a "certain other person," whose name he declined to mention, by night and by day, until some evidence was obtained. It was not enough to vindicate the innocent; the guilty must be exposed and punished.

"Then Levi didn't steal my money, arter all," said Mr. Fairfield to Dock Vincent, after the other people had gone.

"Yes, he did. Levi's smart, and knows how to cover up his work."

"We don't know no more'n nothin' in the world what's come on't," sighed Mr. Fairfield.

"Levi's got it; and it will come to light yet," repeated Dock.

"I donno whether he has or not."

"That nigger lied all the way through. Folks that tell the truth don't spin no sich yarns as he did. If I catch that nigger in the right place, I'll pound him till he tells the truth, for Levi certainly bribed him to tell that story. He didn't say a word about Ben Seaver on board the vessel. He only did it to get his master out of a scrape—that's all, you may depend upon it."

"All I want's my money, and I don't keer much whether Levi took it or not, if I only git it," groaned Mr. Fairfield.

"Don't be alarmed, Squire Fairfield. You'll get your money one of these days—every dollar of it, for Levi's got money enough to make up for what he spends. I've got some one in a situation to keep watch of him, and something'll leak out before long. You keep a stiff upper lip, Squire Fairfield, and it'll all come out right in the end," added Dock, as he turned to leave.

"I don't feel quite so sartain as I did that Levi done it," replied Mr. Fairfield.

"Yes, he did, and that nigger got him out of the scrape. Levi's smart, and so's the nigger. Wasn't it cunning for him to say the bag was given him by a man who has gone off on a fishing voyage? I can see through that trick with my eyes shut. I shall keep an eye on Levi, and on that nigger too," said the comforter, as he left the room.

Dock was sorely vexed at the result of the examination. He had been confident that his victim would be committed for trial, but the steward's testimony had saved him. He walked down towards his own house; but he had not gone far before he discovered Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier, going in the direction of the Point. With a little contrivance on Dock's part, they came together out of sight and hearing of everybody.



CHAPTER XII.

HOTEL DE POISSON.

If Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier had been a prudent colored man, he would have avoided the meeting which Captain Dock Vincent contrived to bring about, by dodging around the rocks, and again appearing in the principal path. But he was not a prudent colored man; and when he saw the dangerous individual before him, though he might easily have turned aside so as to avoid him, he did not do so.

The steward was a very peaceable and well-disposed person on board the yacht, and elsewhere, but under certain circumstances he was a belligerent colored man. He had a very reasonable and decided objection to being called a "nigger." He claimed that he was a gentleman, and while he behaved like a gentleman, he declined to be insulted with impunity. Mr. Ebenier saw the person who had applied this obnoxious epithet to him during the examination. It is possible that his heart beat a little quicker when he discovered the blackguard, as he regarded him; but it is certain that he did not turn to the right or the left, but proceeded on his way as though Dock had been a pygmy, instead of the heavy, stout man he was.

"See here, you nigger," Dock began, when the steward was within hailing distance.

"What do you want of me, you state-prison bird?" replied the colored man.

"What's that you say?" demanded Dock, angrily.

"I asked you what you wanted of me, you state-prison bird," repeated the steward.

"We'll settle that here," said Dock, rolling up his sleeves. "I don't allow any man, white or black, to insult me."

"That's just my position exactly," added Mr. Ebenier, throwing off his coat. "I don't allow any man, big or little, black or white, to insult me."

The unexpected readiness of the steward to settle the question on the spot rather startled and perplexed Dock, and he did not appear to be quite so ready to "pitch in" as he supposed he was. It is sometimes true of individuals, as it is of nations, that a readiness to fight is the surest guarantee of peace.

"What do you mean by calling me a state-prison bird?" demanded Dock, in less confident tones.

"What do you mean by calling me a nigger?" retorted the steward.

"Well, you are one—aren't you?"

"Well, you are a state-prison bird—aren't you?"

"Don't say that again!" said Dock, shaking his head.

"I'll say it twenty-five times more, if you call me a nigger as many times as that."

"Aren't you a black man?"

"I am; but my heart isn't half so black as yours. I'm not a nigger," protested the colored man, stoutly; and it was evident in this instance that the negro would fight, which was just the thing Dock didn't wish him to do.

"Whatever you are, I won't dirty my hands licking a nigger," added the bully.

"But I'll dirty mine by licking a state-prison bird, and you shall have the satisfaction of being licked by a black man," said the steward, stepping up towards his burly antagonist.

"Cool off, cuffee; I was only joking with you," continued Dock, with a mighty effort to laugh.

"Don't call me cuffee. My name is C. Augustus Ebenier, and I am ready to teach you good manners, without fee or reward."

"Never mind, Mr. What's-your-name."

"If you wish to apologize, do so, or I'll soil my boot by kicking you."

"Apologize to a nigger!" exclaimed Dock.

The steward kicked him. This was more than Dock could stand, and he levelled a blow at the spunky assailant, which was parried. Dock was heavy, but he was clumsy, and before he could repeat the stroke, the hard fist of the colored man had settled under one of his eyes, leaving its mark there—a black eye. The bully retreated under the stunning force of the blow, and picked up a stone, which he hurled at his opponent, but fortunately without hitting him. Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier appeared to be satisfied with what he had done, and he did not follow up his advantage, but picked up a stone, to intimate that two could play at that game as well as one.

"We'll settle this another time," said Dock, wiping his black eye.

"You wanted to settle it now, and you have," replied the steward. "If I can do anything more for you, all you have to do is to call me a nigger, and I'll put your other eye into mourning."

"I'll see you again," said Dock, in threatening tones, as he turned and walked away towards his house.

The steward put on his coat, and moved towards the landing-place, beyond the chasm. Since the examination, he had been promenading the town to see the place, or, what is quite as likely, to permit the inhabitants to see him; for Mr. Ebenier was human, and his weak point was a large estimate of his own consequence. He was on his way to the Point to hail the yacht for a boat.

He followed the path better satisfied with himself than we are with him, for it is not the part of a gentleman to fight unless attacked, or to return epithet for epithet. But he had hardly taken half a dozen steps, before a stone, as big as a man's fist, struck him on the back of the head, and he dropped senseless upon the rocks, not killed, or even badly hurt, but effectually stunned. This was Dock Vincent's mode of warfare—to hit a man behind his back.

"Now you'll keep a civil tongue in your head for a while," said the ruffian to himself, as he hastened towards his house.

The steward lay still upon his bed of rocks. The sun had gone down, and the darkness gathered over him; but no one appeared to render him any assistance. The blow had been a heavy one, and the blood ran down the back of his head from the flesh wound it had produced.

When it was quite dark, Augustus, as he was called on board the yacht, began to move and exhibit some signs of life; but a few minutes elapsed before he had sufficiently recovered to rise. He got up, rubbed his head, looked around him, and collected his ideas enough to know where he was. He felt the blood on his head, but he was a strong-minded man, and did not believe he was killed. He walked down to the landing-place, and hailed the yacht without obtaining any response. He repeated the call a dozen times with no better success. Either the crew were not on board, or they had turned in for the night.

Augustus was a man of the world, and his philosophy was equal to almost any occasion. He could not get on board, and therefore he decided to remain on shore, which exhibited a nicety of judgment worthy of commendation and imitation. Removing his collar, he bathed his head and neck in cold salt water, and was satisfied that his wound was not a dangerous one. He congratulated himself that the stone had not hit him in the face, and thus marred his personal beauty; for, being an exquisite in his own way, this would have been the most fearful calamity that could possibly have happened to him.

After making himself presentable, so far as he could in the darkness, and in the absence of a mirror, his first impulse was to find his treacherous enemy, and punish him for his dastardly attack; for Mr. Ebenier did not purpose to trouble Squire Saunders or the courts with his affair. But he did not know where to find Dock, and was not aware that he lived in the house nearest to the landing-place. He did not exactly like the idea of passing the night in the open air, and it would not be etiquette for him to apply to Mr. Watson or the captain for a lodging.

The steward was not only a philosopher, but a man of expedients. On his way up to the town in the morning he had noticed a dilapidated fish-house, at the head of a little inlet. This building would afford him a shelter, if nothing more, for the night, and he repaired to its friendly but inhospitable roof. Entering the fish-house, he groped about for a suitable place to lie down, and blundered against a rickety flight of stairs in one corner. Hoping to find better sleeping accommodation in the loft than on the ground floor,—as literally it was, being composed of earth and rocks,—he ascended the steps. The stairs creaked and groaned, and it required some nerve to go up in the dark; but the steward's courage was equal to the emergency.

He found that it was not safe to walk about on the floor of the loft in the dark, for the timbers groaned under his weight, and the boards were full of holes and traps; but near the head of the stairs was an old sail, which seemed to have been placed there for his especial accommodation. Lying down on this, he wooed the slumber which his head, still dizzy from the effects of the blow, required.

"I'm all right now," said he to himself. "It smells fishy; I will call it Hotel de Poisson, and go to sleep."

While the steward was seeking a resting-place for his weary head, Dock Vincent walked down to the Point to ascertain whether or not he had killed his victim. He was gone, and the ruffian went home again.

Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier could not go to sleep in his hotel as readily as he desired; but, just as he was dropping off, he was startled by the sound of voices, in low, suppressed tones, hardly above a whisper. He heard footsteps, and then the dim light of a lantern shed its rays up through the holes and cracks in the floor. In vain he tried to identify the voices; the whispers did not enable him to do so. He dared not move lest the creaking of the timbers should alarm the nocturnal visitors.

He was satisfied that the persons below were engaged in some kind of mischief, and it was his business to know what it was, and who the men were. Near the centre of the loft there was a large hole in the floor, and he commenced working himself by hundredth parts of an inch towards it; but every time he moved, however slightly, the creaking joist threatened to betray his presence, and he decided to satisfy himself at once. One glance might inform him who the men were, and perhaps the mystery of the stolen gold would be solved.

The steward made a spring towards the aperture, throwing himself forward upon his hands, so as to look down through the hole. He had forgotten the ruinous condition of the Hotel de Poisson. His weight and the force of his movement were too much for the strength of the rotten wood; a timber gave way, and Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier was precipitated, head first, through the hole he had made, and struck between the two men, who sat each on a rock facing the other, with the light on the ground between them. The lantern was smashed, and the two men uttered a howl of terror.

If the steward's head had struck one of the rocks it must have split it open—the head, not the rock! He hit the ground, and, as it was, he was again stunned, the men making a hasty escape without recognition.



CHAPTER XIII.

"OFT FROM APPARENT ILLS."

Doubtless a person with Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier's pretensions to gentility should have sent down his card to the individuals engaged in conference below before he went down himself; but the circumstances did not permit the exercise of this degree of courtesy. In fact the steward had no intention forcibly to intrude himself upon the persons below; only to obtain a glance at them. He was a man of intelligence, and the arrest of his captain, in whose character he had a becoming interest, was enough to assure him that something was wrong. He had listened patiently to the details of the examination, and while he was willing to admit that the old man had been robbed of his gold, it never entered his head that Levi was guilty of the crime.

The muffled speech of the two men in the Hotel de Poisson, and the unseemly hour they had chosen for their conference, suggested to the steward that they had something to do with this robbery. He had vainly endeavored to identify their voices, and as a last resort, failing to obtain any information by other means, he decided to obtain one glance at them at all hazards. Perhaps it was well for him that the timbers broke beneath his weight, for the men, not relishing the intrusion, might have subjected him to much bodily harm.

As it was, they bolted as though an evil spirit had suddenly dropped down between them from the upper regions. They were terribly frightened, as indicated by their rapid flight. The steward had not even obtained his coveted view of their faces and forms, and was no wiser in the end than he was in the beginning. The treacherous timbers had defeated his purpose, while, perhaps, they had saved him from a greater calamity than his fall.

For the second time that day, the steward lay senseless on the ground. Though Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier was not wanting in intelligence, his skull seemed to have a capability for enduring hard knocks which was really surprising. Doubtless his head was his strong place; if it had not been, his brains must have been dashed out. According to the tradition, it was safer for him to strike on his head than on his shins. Certainly he was not badly injured, and if reduced to extremity he might have let out his head for use as a blacksmith's anvil.

Before the two men who had been conferring together in the Hotel de Poisson could muster courage to return, the steward had in a great measure recovered from the effects of the fall. Perhaps the superabundance of stars which dawned upon his vision had not all ceased to shine; and perhaps his ideas, which had all been thrown into a confused mass, were not altogether detached and restored to their original channels; but Augustus was practically himself again. His first thought was one of regret that he had failed to obtain a sight of the two men; that he had not even learned whether they were black or white, old or young, seamen or landsmen.

He rubbed his head to relieve the pressure on his brain, and to vivify his ideas. The incident which had occurred seemed to render the Hotel de Poisson an unfit place for him to remain during the balance of the night; but he was not willing to leave till he had examined the locality, and obtained whatever evidence it might afford him in regard to the mysterious couple who had met there. Kicking about the ground, he disturbed the fractured glass of the lantern. The globe had been broken, but the lamp was still whole.

Though Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier had a great many bright parts, he was inclined to be a "swell." He smoked a pipe on the forecastle of the yacht, but when he walked through the principal streets of Rockport, in his plaid pants and bobtail sack, he smoked an Havana cigar, with a meerschaum mouthpiece, in deference to his huge mustache—it was more genteel to smoke a cigar than a pipe. The steward carried a cigar case, which always contained two or three of the choicest brand, and he claimed to have brought them from Havana himself. In this case he also carried matches, which now promised to serve him a better turn than for the lighting of his cigar.

In a moment he had the lamp from the lantern burning, and was looking curiously and eagerly about the premises. The steward had an idea; perhaps not a very brilliant one, but as brilliant as could be expected of a man whose intellect had been so rudely jarred twice within a brief period. The conduct of the two transient guests at the Hotel de Poisson had been suspicious, to say the least. That afternoon the robbery had been fully discussed, and he was confident that the visitors were in some manner connected with that affair. His idea was, that the fish-house had been used as a place of concealment for the plunder. He made a hasty examination of the ground and the rocks which formed the first floor of the Hotel de Poisson, but discovered nothing to confirm his impression.

The steward crossed the place to examine under the rickety stairs. On his way he hit his head against a splintered board, which was hanging from the floor above, partly detached by his movement through the structure. It scratched the top of his head, already tender from rough usage, and thereby vexed and angered him, as slight accidents often ruffle even great minds. With a gesture of impatience, and a petulant word not in good taste for a drawing-room, he seized the projecting board, and gave it a savage wrench.

Mr. Ebenier was not a poet himself, but he was fond of the poets, and had perused Milton, Shakspeare, Beattie, Cowper, and Keats with real pleasure, to say nothing of having read Corneille and Racine in the original. The steward, therefore, was prepared to appreciate the poet's sentiment, "Oft from apparent ills our blessings rise." His impatient gesture and his petulant exclamation when the board scratched his head, indicated that he regarded the accident as "an apparent ill;" but, as he wrenched the board, a shot-bag, plethoric with gold coin, tumbled, with a clinking clang, upon the ground at his feet, narrowly avoiding his head, and thus saying him from being knocked senseless a third time.

The steward opened his eyes, and regarded the bag as the blessing. He shook the board again, and another bag came this time. Then he pulled it away, and the sail which had formed his bed in the loft rolled down. Overhauling this, he found a third bag; and this was the last he could find. Picking up the lamp till it blazed like a torch, he renewed the search; but no more of these heavy blessings were available.

Mr. Ebenier was satisfied, and he set his lamp down on the ground, intending to open one of the bags, and ascertain the nature of its contents. Under ordinary circumstances the steward would have been too careful to set his lamp down so near a pile of dry seaweed as he did on the present occasion. But his mind was, probably, so confused by the hard knocks his head had received, and by the excitement of finding the gold, that he took little note of his surroundings. His thought was concentrated upon the bags of gold. He did not even think of the two men whose conference he had disturbed, and did not seem to fear that they would return and deprive him of his booty.

He was about to untie the string of one of the heavy bags, when a bright glare overspread the space before him. The pile of dry seaweed, which had been used to cover a sail-boat in the winter, was all in a light blaze. The steward tried to quench the flames with his feet, but his efforts were unavailing. The dry stuff burned like shavings, and the more he kicked, the more the fire leaped up and spit at him. He fought the flames as long as his courage held out, and then he "allowed" that the Hotel de Poisson was a doomed structure.

Taking the money-bags, he retreated down the peninsula towards the landing-place at the Point, lighted on his way by the burning building. Crossing the plank, he reached the shore. There was a dory there, and putting the three bags into it, the steward launched it, and pulled off to the yacht. The treasure was conveyed to the cabin, and deposited temporarily in a locker under a berth. The dory was towed back to the shore, and placed where the steward had found it, that no early fisherman might be deprived of his morning trip. Augustus was in a flurry of excitement all this time, and had not even considered what he should do with the bags. His present object was to secure the plunder so that it could not be recovered by the robbers; and, having done this, he was entirely satisfied with himself, and everybody else, except Dock Vincent, to whom he owed a balance on account, for that night's business.

There was an alarm of fire on shore. The bright glare of the flames from the Hotel de Poisson penetrated the windows of a house near Dock Vincent's, and lighted up the bed-chamber of a sleeping stone-cutter. He gave the alarm; the bells rang, the engines rattled, and the whole town was aroused from its peaceful slumbers. Hundreds of men, who had worked hard all day, lost two hours of sleep for an old shanty which was not worth five dollars.

The Hotel de Poisson was burned to the ground before many people had gathered. Some good men thanked God that it had not been a poor man's house; young men enjoyed the excitement of "running with the machine," and those with an eye for the picturesque were thankful that the unsightly shanty had been removed from a place where it disfigured the landscape. No one appeared to be sorry; but every one wondered how the fire had caught. Various conjectures were suggested; but, after all, no one knew anything about it. Some thought a straggler had used it as a lodging, and set it on fire in lighting his pipe. Others thought some bad boys had set the fire for fun.

If the two men who had met there to confer about their ill-gotten gold were in the crowd, doubtless they were sadder and wiser men. Probably they thought that the breaking of the lantern had communicated the flame to the shanty. The people present knew nothing of the event in the Hotel de Poisson wherein Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier had been the principal actor. The finding of the half-melted remains of a lantern had no significance or suggestiveness to them. The building burned up clean, and there was nothing left of it but a few smoking timbers, and a thin sprinkling of ashes on the ground and the rocks.

If the robbers, whoever they were, went to the fire, it is more than likely that they searched eagerly among the ruins for the gold. If they did, they saw nothing which looked like the fused coins of the treasure. The old sail, in which the gold appeared to have been concealed, or which had been thrown over its place of concealment, was burned to tinder, and there was not a vestige of the bags or the money.



CHAPTER XIV.

"LOSE HIS OWN SOUL!"

The steward of The Starry Flag, after he had returned the dory to the rocks, and secured the jolly-boat of the yacht, had an opportunity to rest his fevered, mixed-up brain, and to consider his next step. The four seamen of the schooner slept on shore, at their own homes, and there was no one on board but the cook, who slumbered heavily in the forecastle, and did not hear Augustus when he conveyed the bags to the cabin.

Mr. Ebenier lighted a lamp, closed the cabin doors, and drew the silken curtains over the ports in the upper part of the trunk, so that no one could see what he was doing. Though it was not lawful for the steward to use the wash-bowl in Mr. Watson's stateroom, he considered that the present emergency would justify him in doing so. He performed his ablutions with the utmost care, paying particular attention to his wounded head. He then changed his clothing throughout, and devoted half an hour to cleansing his plaid pants, which had been somewhat soiled by contact with the burning seaweed. He even polished his boots before he put them away.

So far as cleanliness was concerned, the steward was a gentleman, which no unclean person can be. Having completed his toilet, and removed all signs of the operation from the state-room, he sat down on a locker in the cabin. He was thinking of the extraordinary incidents of the night. He was fully satisfied that he had found Mr. Fairfield's treasure, and that the opportunity entirely to free his young captain from suspicion was within his grasp. It was a pleasant thought; but, after all, who was Captain Fairfield? Only a young fellow behind whose chair at dinner he was privileged to stand. He had seen him for the first time but a few days before, and he did not feel under any peculiar obligations to him.

Mr. Ebenier took the three bags of gold from the locker, and laid them on the cabin table. It was midnight by the clock which hung in the cabin—the dead hour of night, when all were sleeping. The fire on shore had burned out, and all was still save the rolling sea. The steward went to the door, opened it, passed up to the deck; there was no one in sight, and hardly a light to be seen on the land. Returning to the cabin, he poured out the contents of one of the bags on the table, and proceeded to count the gold. It was a long job, and there was more money than the steward had ever before seen together. On a piece of paper he noted each hundred dollars with a tally-mark. His last pile contained but fifty dollars. Counting up his marks, he made thirty-eight of them; and the whole sum, according to his reckoning, was thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars.

The old man had lost four thousand dollars, and the steward, concluding he had made a mistake, performed the agreeable task of counting the gold a second time, but with the same result as before. After making the allowance for the fifty dollars found in the captain's state-room, the amount was one hundred dollars short. Mr. Ebenier had the impudence to ask himself if this could be the miser's money, since it did not hold out in the sum he had lost. But the bags were plainly marked, as the fourth had been, "N. Fairfield," in the cramped handwriting of the miser. Of course there could be no doubt in regard to the ownership of the treasure, and Mr. Ebenier could not but wonder at the stupidity of the thieves in hiding it in or under the old sail in the Hotel de Poisson. But he did them the justice to conclude that it had only been placed there for a short time, perhaps for but a few hours; at any rate, their presence in the shanty indicated that it was to have been removed during the night.

It had been removed during the night! The steward chuckled when he thought of it, but his capacious intellect was agitated by a great moral question. Thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars was an immense sum to a person in his station, who had never had even a hundred dollars in his possession at one time. Honesty was a precious jewel, but it was not possible for him to make thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars, at one stupendous haul, by being honest. He did not steal the money. He did not rob the old man. If the steward had not suffered the perils and discomforts of two broken heads, or rather one head broken twice, the robbers, whoever they were, would doubtless have divided the money between them, and the old man would never know what had become of his cherished gold.

Mr. Ebenier asked himself if this was not a freak of fortune in his favor; if the money was not a providential compensation for his twice-broken head. Thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars would be a very handsome atonement for two such raps as he had received, and he was Mammon-worshipper enough to feel willing that his head should be pounded to a jelly at this rate, so long as the germ of his mighty intellect was not extinguished.

The steward was a man of exquisite tastes, and was ambitious for social recognition and distinction. In Paris a colored man was just as good as, if not a little better than, a white man. His former master, in Louisiana, had believed in Paris, and seeing with his eyes, he had been fully converted to his master's faith. Mr. Ebenier wanted to go to Paris, wanted to live there, even as a waiter in a cafe, if no better situation presented itself. With the money before him, he could realize his dream of luxury and splendor. He could convert these half eagles into napoleons, and revel like a prince in the gay metropolis of France. He would wear the finest of broadcloth, eat the most sumptuous of dinners, and saunter up and down the Champs Elysees like a gentleman. In short, thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars, or nearly twenty thousand francs in the currency of France, would make a gentleman of him.

Mr. C. Augustus Ebenier was sorely tempted. It might be only once in his lifetime that such a chance to be a gentleman would be presented to him. He could put the gold into his carpet-bag, walk over to Gloucester, and take the first train for Boston. No one would know what had become of him; or, if they did, he would not be suspected of having the gold. But he would be missed, and his absence might cause a commotion. It would be better not to leave at present. The money could be concealed on board of the yacht, and when he was disposed to abandon the vessel it would be within his reach.

After more reflection on this important matter, the steward became convinced that it would be safer and better to hide the gold on board. At the stern of the vessel, under the standing-room, there was a space not available for cabin use, which formed a kind of store-room for extra supplies. It was reached by removing the cabin steps. The tempted man entered this contracted and low apartment with the lamp in his hand. He found a narrow aperture, which led to the space under the cabin floor, where the ballast was deposited, and over which a board had been nailed to prevent the odor of bilge water from penetrating the apartment of the passengers. He removed this board, and reaching down into the hold, placed the bags in a position where they were not likely to be discovered, even by a person searching for them. Nailing on the board again, he covered it with various articles, and returned to the cabin.

On the table lay a Bible, which the steward occasionally read. Though it was now two o'clock in the morning, he was not sleepy; he was too much excited to think of slumber. He opened the good book mechanically, turned its leaves, and read a verse here and there; but he was thinking all the time of the luxurious gayety of the French capital, and the pleasures which thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars would purchase.

"For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

This was the last verse he read, and he closed the book, as though this appeal of Holy Writ grated harshly on his feelings.

"Lose his own soul," repeated he, almost in spite of himself.

He tried to think of the Boulevards and the gardens of the Tuileries again; but "lose his own soul" came up to his lips still, as though some invisible power compelled him to whisper the impressive sentence. He attempted to whistle, and then to sing an air; but "lose his own soul" came up to his lips, and he could not help whispering the sentence again.

"This money don't belong to me," said he, in audible words. "I am not the happy owner of this princely sum. Unto but few is it appointed to be both rich and good-looking, and I am not of the number. I must be contented with my good looks."

It was no use to say it; he did not mean it, and the idea of Paris and its luxuries still haunted his imagination. He turned in, but it was only to think what thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars would purchase; and "lose his own soul" not only came to his lips, but the solemn sentence seemed to be printed, in sombre-hued capitals, all over the cabin. He went to sleep at last; but "lose his own soul" followed him into his dreams, yelled in the distance and muttered in his ears by grinning demons, such as those with which his fancy peopled the realms of the lost. But he slumbered uneasily till the sun was far up on his day-journey. When he went on deck, he saw The Starry Flag, Jr. almost alongside. Captain Fairfield and the four seamen came on board.

The young skipper announced that the trip to the eastward, which had been postponed from the day before, would be commenced at once, and the party would be on board at eight o'clock. The steward had enough to do to keep his hands, if not his mind, engaged in making preparations for the occupants of the cabin. At the time appointed the party came on board, and the yacht sailed on her cruise.

Our story need not follow them during the ten days to which the trip was prolonged. It is enough to say that the party enjoyed every moment of the time. Even Mrs. Watson, who had no taste for the sea, was delighted; for Levi, at her request, was careful to bring the yacht to anchor in smooth water every night, and to stay in port when the sea was very rough.

During those ten days Mr. Ebenier considered and reconsidered, and then considered again, what he should do with the money that had so strangely come into his possession. He was disposed to use it; but the gospel sentence thundered in his ears, and trembled upon his lips, and rolled like the chariot of an avenger through his mind. Once or twice he was on the point of telling the captain all about the gold, but the vision of Parisian luxury checked him.

When the yacht entered Sandy Bay, the Caribbee lay anchored off the Point, and The Starry Flag moored a couple of cables' length from her.



CHAPTER XV.

ANOTHER LITTLE PLAN.

When The Starry Flag returned from her pleasant excursion to the eastward, Mr. Fairfield had so far recovered from the effects of his fall as to be out, and to be making his preparations again to catch dog-fish. It seemed to him to be absolutely necessary that he should make some more money. He felt like a poor man, and his stocks and bonds, notes and mortgages, afforded him but little comfort. His heart seemed to have been lost with the four thousand in gold.

When the yacht made her moorings, the old man was at the landing-place, getting ready to go dog-fishing the next day. His bones still ached, and nothing but bitter necessity could have induced one so feeble as he was to think of going off in a dory, miles from the shore, braving the perils of ocean and storm. He believed that poverty and want stared him in the face, and that he must go to the poorhouse if he did not make an effort to retrieve his great misfortune.

Dock Vincent was never far off when a vessel came into port; and, though he was very busy in making the preparations for his departure, he hastened down to the Point when The Starry Flag hove in sight.

"That's Levi's vessel, Squire Fairfield," said he.

"I s'pose 'tis," replied the old man, casting an indifferent glance to seaward.

"I sold my house to-day, Squire Fairfield," continued Dock, seating himself by the shore.

"Did ye? What d'ye git for 't?"

"Fifteen hundred dollars. It was worth two thousand; but, as I'm going to Australia right off, I couldn't afford to hold it for a better price."

"You'll have a good deal of money to kerry off with you."

"Not much. I paid six thousand for that vessel, and she's dog-cheap at that; but I shall make my fortune in her, carrying passengers."

"I hope you will, for you've done well by me, though you didn't find my money;" and the old man sighed heavily. "I reckon I shall never see nothin' more on't."

"I'm afraid you never will, Squire Fairfield. That nigger lied so like all possessed that Levi got clear, and then we couldn't do anything. I'm afraid it's too late to do anything more. I calculate that nigger and Levi understand one another pretty well. They fixed things between them, and I'm just as sure as I can be that your money went off in that vessel."

"In the yack?"

"Yes, in the yacht," replied Dock, warmly. "It was stowed away somewhere in her; but I suppose they have got rid of it by this time."

"You think I shan't never see it again," groaned the old man, with a piteous expression on his thin face.

"I'm sorry to say I don't think you ever will, Squire Fairfield."

"Then I'm a ruined man! I can't afford to lose four thousand dollars. It was e'enamost all I had, and I don't see but I must go to the poorhouse."

Dock Vincent took off his hat, rubbed his head, gazed upon the ground, and seemed to be in deep thought for several minutes. So was the miser in deep thought—brooding over his lost treasure.

"Squire Fairfield, when I begin to do a thing I always do it, sooner or later," said Dock, glancing doubtfully at the old man.

"You didn't find my money," added Mr. Fairfield.

"No; but I'm going to find it, or some more just like it. Squire Fairfield, I can put you in the way of making twenty thousand dollars just as easy as you lost that four thousand."

"You don't say!" exclaimed the old man, his sunken eyes glowing at the suggestion.

"I can; there isn't any doubt about it."

"You don't mean to steal it—do you?"

"Steal it! You don't think I'd steal—do you? If you do, I won't say anything more about my little plan."

Another little plan!

"Well, no; I never knowed you to steal nothin'."

"Twenty thousand dollars is a good deal of money, Squire Fairfield."

"So 'tis—more 'n I ever expect to see."

"But you shall see it, and have it, if you will take hold of my little plan."

"What is't?" asked the old man, curiously and eagerly.

"It's something we must keep still about. I'm going to make my fortune out of it, and yours too."

"What do you want to keep still for, ef you ain't go'n' to steal it?"

"I see it's no use to talk with you," said Dock, petulantly. "If you think I'd steal, I can't depend upon you, or you upon me. So there's an end of it."

Dock rose from his seat, looked at The Starry Flag, which was just coming to anchor, and then began to walk up the Point; but he expected to be called back, and he was not disappointed.

"Why don't you tell me on't, so I can know what you're go'n' to do?" demanded the miser.

"I shall not say anything to you. I don't think I can trust you. The business isn't all regular; but it isn't stealing," protested Dock.

"You can trust me, Cap'n Vincent, jest as long as you can trust anybody. You know I never says nothin' to nobody about business. I allers keeps things to myself," whined Mr. Fairfield.

"Will you keep this to yourself?"

"Sartin, I will."

"'Pon honor?" added Dock, earnestly.

"Yes; 'pon honor. Nobody ever knowed me to say nothin' about business. I never trust nobody, not even my wife, with business matters."

"Sit down, squire, and we'll talk it over between us," replied Dock, apparently satisfied with the old man's promise.

Mr. Fairfield, with some difficulty, seated himself on the rock, and with glaring eyes—so interested was he in a project which was to put twenty thousand dollars in his pocket—he listened to the rather prolix explanations of his companion. For twenty thousand dollars he would have sold his soul; but he was timid.

"I never fail in doing a thing without wanting to try it over again," Dock began. "I always put things through when I begin upon them."

The old man was not quite sure of this, but he did not interrupt the speaker.

"Three years ago twenty thousand dollars slipped through my fingers just as easy as though the money had been greased," continued Dock.

"I didn't know on't."

"Yes, you did. Watson had his money all ready to pay over to me when I had the girl before, and if Levi Fairfield hadn't come between me and him, I should have had the money. Now, Squire Fairfield, I'm going to try that over again; and I'm not going to fail this time. I've got things fixed so that I can't fail."

"I donno about that," said the old man.

"I know, and I'm just as certain about it as though the thing was done already. But I'm not going to tell you anything more about it than I'm obliged to, and then you won't know anything about it, and can't be held responsible for it."

"I don't see how I'm go'n' to make any money by it," interposed the miser, who was more interested in this part of the plan than any other.

"Don't you, squire? How much money do you suppose Watson's worth?"

"I donno."

"More than a million! I know that to be a fact; and I shouldn't wonder if he was worth two millions: folks in Boston think he is."

"He's spendin' on't all on yacks and sech things."

"What that yacht cost to him is no more than a copper to you and me. He don't mind a hundred thousand dollars any more than you would half a cent."

"Not so much!"

"But he don't believe in throwin' on't away."

"I'm going to bleed him just seventy thousand dollars—fifty thousand for myself, and twenty thousand for you."

"I don't see how it's go'n' to be done."

"He shall pay the money over to you; that's what I want you for."

"Then they'll ketch me, and put me in jail," suggested the old man, timorously.

"Nonsense! They won't do it. The whole matter will be between you and Watson. You won't know anything about the business—not a thing. All you've got to do is to take the money and keep it till I call for it. After the girl has been gone a month or two, he will be glad to give you twice as much as I ask. I shall get her aboard the Caribbee."

"How you go'n' to do it? She won't go with you, any more'n she'll go with the evil sperit."

"I'll take care of that. You are to know nothing about it. I shall leave things so that Mr. Watson will go to you, and offer to pay the money without your saying a word about it beforehand. All you have to do is to keep what he gives you till I call for it."

"I donno about it."

"It's all right. We shan't hurt the girl. She shall have a good state-room, and my wife will be on board to see to her. I tell you I'm going to have this thing done over again."

"Where's Levi go'n' to be all this time? He sticks to the gal all the time, and if you git her off, he'll follow you way round the world."

"He won't know anything about it; besides, I calculate he'll be in jail for stealing your money before that time."

"You don't think so!"

"Yes, I do; I'm going to fix that nigger, and I'll bet Levi won't have his wool to hold on to much longer."

"But I don't understand nothin' about this business, Cap'n Vincent," said the old man, doubtfully.

"I don't want you to understand anything about it. It's all right as it is. When the money comes, you hold on to it."

"Ain't you go'n' off to Australia?"

"Of course I am."

"Then how you go'n' to git the money?"

"Leave all that to me," replied Dock, impatiently. "If you don't know anything, you'll keep out of trouble. You will make your twenty thousand dollars out of it, and that ought to satisfy you. Now, Squire Fairfield, there's only just one thing more to be done."

"What's that?"

"I'll give you a chance to make another ten thousand, if you like."

The old man's eyes brightened again, as he asked how it was to be done.

"I find I'm going to be a little short fitting out. I'm going to take out some notions to sell that will pay me five dollars for one; but I haven't got the money to do it," continued Dock.

The old man's chin dropped, and he looked sad and sorrowful.

"I want ten thousand dollars more than I've got. I shall make forty thousand out of the venture, and I can afford to pay a heavy interest. I will give you ten thousand for the use of ten thousand."

"I hain't got no sech money," protested the miser.

"But you can raise it."

"I ain't sure of ever gittin' on't back."

"Yes, you are. You will lend me ten thousand dollars, and then take twenty thousand out of my fifty when Watson pays it over to you."

"Perhaps he never'll pay it over to me."

"You may be sure he will. If he don't, he never will see his daughter again. He will be glad of the chance to pay it. But if he don't, you know, you shall have my note, and I will pay it as soon as I've turned my notions."

Mr. Fairfield, eager as he was to make the ten thousand dollars, had no more idea then of letting the sum asked for pass out of his hands than he had of giving away that amount. It was not his style to let money go from him without the best of security. The approach of a boat interrupted Dock's argument, and the old man promised to think of the proposition.

"I shall not want that dory any more, and I'll give it to you, Squire Fairfield," said Dock, hoping his munificence would touch the money-lender's heart, as he walked away.

"I'm much obleeged to you; it will sarve me a good turn," replied Mr. Fairfield.

"Think over my offer, and I'll see you again soon," added Dock, as he passed out of hearing.



CHAPTER XVI.

PISTOLS FOR TWO.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when The Starry Flag arrived from her cruise. Her passengers were immediately landed; and, after the vessel had been put in order, the four young men who lived in Rockport were permitted to go on shore; and the cook went with them, intending to return in the evening with the boat. The steward did not wish to visit the town, and remained on board as ship-keeper.

Mr. Ebenier was so polite and attentive to the wants of the passengers, and, above all, used such choice language, that he had become quite a favorite. Bessie, who had made considerable progress in her French, was delighted with him, as well because he was an original character, as because he anticipated all her wants. She talked French with him; indeed, all except Levi used the "polite language" at the table to a great extent. The steward was treated with a great deal of consideration by all the occupants of the cabin. This was what he most desired, and after the party had been on board two or three days, he ceased to think of leaving the yacht before the close of the season. Such a friend as Mr. Watson was worth more than the contents of the three bags concealed in the vessel's run.

But ever since he had placed the treasure in its hiding-place, the gospel malediction, "lose his own soul," had been thundering in his ears. The temptation was a strong one; but the steward had thus far been an honest man, and the present seemed to be the crisis of his lifetime. The kindness and consideration of the captain and his passengers won his heart, and he had determined that Levi, in the words with which he clothed the idea, should be triumphantly vindicated.

Mr. Ebenier reasoned that his captain could not be vindicated by simply returning the gold to the old man, his uncle. The two men whom he had failed to identify in the Hotel de Poisson must be discovered; and he determined to find them, if it were possible. On this subject he had some views of his own, and he concluded to let the gold remain where it was until he could institute an investigation: we use the gentleman's own words, subsequently uttered.

The steward dared not leave the yacht when the others went on shore. If he had not recognized the two men, they had probably recognized him. They must suppose he had taken possession of the money, and they would expect to find it if an opportunity to search the yacht was afforded to them. Mr. Ebenier did not intend to give them any such opportunity; therefore he remained on board. He went farther than this. The robbers might come on board while he was there alone, overpower him, and thus regain their plunder. The steward kept a revolver in his carpet-bag; for, being a man of varying fortunes, he was liable at any time to be in a situation to need such a weapon. He took the pistol from the bag, loaded it, and put it into his pocket. It was his duty, as ship-keeper, to defend the vessel in the absence of the captain; and the weapon gave him a strong assurance of safety.

From his house Dock Vincent watched the movements of the crew of the yacht. Levi and five men had landed; consequently the steward must be on board alone. But he had decided to pay him a visit, whether alone or not. In Dock's classic speech, he was "going to fix that nigger," and he was watching for the opportunity to do the "fixing." One of the Caribbee's boats was at the landing, and as soon as the crew of the yacht had landed, he pulled off to her. His coming was not unexpected, and Mr. Ebenier, in spite of the injuries he had received at the hands of the visitor, was as smooth and polite as though his temper had never been ruffled.

"Steward, I want to talk with you a little while," said Dock, as, without an invitation, he stepped upon the deck of the yacht.

"Though I have no particular inducements to condescension, so far as you are concerned, I am willing, in this instance, to gratify you," replied Mr. Ebenier, graciously.

"If you don't object, we will go down into the cabin, where we shall not be interrupted," added Dock.

"Though it is not customary to admit any but gentlemen into the cabin, I shall be happy to waive the rule in this instance, as all our people are on shore," answered Mr. Ebenier, as he led the way to the cabin.

Dock Vincent paid no attention to the polished insults of the steward, but seated himself on a stool, at the side of the table. Mr. Ebenier took his place opposite the guest.

"Now, Captain Dock Vincent, I am entirely at your service," said the steward.

"It won't take a great while to get off what I want to say," Dock began, putting a very uncompromising look upon his ugly face. "I suppose you know the old man that lost the money."

"I have not the honor to be personally acquainted with him, but I am informed that he is the paternal uncle of Captain Levi Fairfield."

"That's so; and Levi has treated him in the most shabby manner."

"Permit me to interrupt you, Captain Vincent," interposed the steward. "It would not be possible for Captain Fairfield to treat any person in a shabby manner, certainly not his own uncle."

"On that point we differ, steward; but let me say what I was going to say."

"Proceed, Captain Vincent. I simply refuse to indorse your statement, and I protest against it."

"All this is neither here nor there. To come right down to the p'int, the old man lost four thousand dollars in gold. I'm trying to help him find it. I know just as well as I know anything, that Levi stole that money. All the circumstances go to show that he did, letting alone the fact that one of the bags was found in his state-room."

"Not without an earnest protest can I permit my worthy captain to be maligned in this unjustifiable manner. On my own responsibility I declare that your statement is utterly false."

"I am satisfied it's just as I say," persisted Dock. "Now, we'll go a p'int closer to the wind. I'm almost certain that the gold Levi stole is hid aboard this vessel."

"And you wish to search the yacht for it?" added the steward.

"That's just my idea," replied Dock, promptly.

"Permitting such a search would be an acknowledgment, on my part, of the possibility of my worthy captain's guilt; therefore I cannot suffer such an investigation to be instituted."

"Well, steward, whether you are going to suffer it or not, it's going to be done," said Dock, savagely. "I didn't come off here, this time, to be fooled with. I know the gold's on board, and I'm going to have it."

"You know it," repeated the steward, calmly.

"Yes, I know it."

"So do I," added Augustus, quietly.

"You do!" exclaimed Dock. "I knew you did! I've been satisfied all along that you knew all about it, and that you was helping Levi cover up his guilt. I suppose he was going to give you something for it."

"One of your statements, namely, that the money is on board of this yacht, is assuredly correct; but your theory, your logic, your premises, and your conclusions are undoubtedly false and absurd," said the steward, a cheerful smile playing beneath his huge mustache.

"Isn't the gold here?" demanded Dock, impatiently.

"It is."

"Then quit your flabbergast, and talk in plain English. Of course Levi stole it."

"Not he!"

"Who did, then?"

"You and another person. Excuse me, Captain Vincent, if my remarks seem too personal; but I have a theory of my own, which, with your permission, I will unfold to you. Have a glass of cold water, sir?"

The steward filled a tumbler from the ice pitcher, and politely tendered it to the guest.

"No; I don't want any; go on with your yarn," growled Dock, sourly, for he desired to ascertain what the steward knew.

"We need use no undue haste in our deliberations," replied Augustus, as he drank the glass of water.

"Go on, and don't talk any flabbergast."

"The money was stolen by you and another person."

"Humph! What other person?"

"To be entirely candid with you, I do not yet know who the other person is; but a certain contingent event will expose him." He referred to the return of the fishing vessel, with Ben Seaver, who had handed him the bag. "You and the other person—to me at present unknown—stole the money, and concealed it in the Hotel de Poisson."

"In the what?"

"I refer to the fish-house, which was consumed in the conflagration of ten days ago. After you had knocked me down by hurling a stone at me in the basest and most unchivalrous manner, on my recovery from the effects of the blow, I went to the fish-house to sleep, being too late to return on board. I was in the loft when you and the other person were below. The floor broke, and I had the misfortune to be precipitated upon you and your companion in infamy. You ran away; but I found the gold, and brought it on board. This is my theory, Captain Dock Vincent."

"This is all a lie!" gasped Dock, putting his hand into his side pocket.

"On the contrary, it is all the sacred truth."

"See here, steward; you can't fool me. I want that money."

"Allow me to inform you that you cannot have it. In due time it shall be restored to the rightful owner."

"I can and will have it," said Dock, fiercely, as he took a revolver from his pocket, and pointed it at the head of the steward.

"I think not," replied Mr. Ebenier, producing his revolver; and, straightening out his legs under the table, he threw himself into an attitude as impudent as the human form could assume, while upon his face played an expression of smiling assurance, which took the ruffian all aback.

Dock's hand trembled, and the pistol vibrated in his grasp, as he looked in dismay at the steward's weapon, all capped and cocked, as his own was not—a circumstance which probably helped Mr. Ebenier in keeping so cool and self-possessed.

"Why don't you fire, Captain Dock Vincent?" taunted the steward. "If you move you are a dead man!"



At this moment a boat touched the side of the vessel; and while the two men were confronting each other as described, Levi entered the cabin. He was startled by the array of deadly weapons presented to him as he descended the steps; but neither Dock nor the steward appeared to notice him, for each was afraid the other would fire if his attention was for an instant diverted.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE GOLD RESTORED.

Levi could see no good reason why Dock Vincent and the steward of the yacht should be such deadly enemies as to draw pistols on each other. He had come on board for a travelling bag, which Bessie had left in her state-room, and he was not prepared for the scene that met his view in the cabin.

"What are you about, Augustus?" demanded he.

But the steward was obliged to attend to the ugly customer opposite him at the table, and he made no reply—a piece of rudeness, however, which he regretted as an absolute necessity.

"Captain Dock Vincent, I will trouble you to lay your weapon on the table," said the steward. "If you don't do it, I will fire."

Dock did it.

"Pardon me, Captain Fairfield, for my rudeness in not replying to your question," continued Augustus.

"I asked you what you were about," repeated Levi.

"I was about to shoot this ruffian, and I should have done so if I had not happened to observe, in good time, that his weapon was not in condition to go off."

Dock Vincent rose from his seat, leaving his revolver on the table. Probably he had not expected to use it, believing the sight of it would be sufficient to intimidate the steward, and induce him to give up the three bags of gold. He looked at the colored man, then at Levi. The former had dropped his revolver, seeing which the ruffian walked towards the cabin door. As the movement was not opposed, he ran up the steps, jumped into his boat, and pulled for the Caribbee.

Levi again impatiently demanded an explanation of the scene he had witnessed. The steward, commencing back at the day of the examination, related, in his prolix and grandiloquent speech, all the events in which he had been the chief actor, up to the current incident of the day. He did not confess that he had been tempted to steal the money, for he regarded the overcoming of the temptation as a sufficient virtue, without the humiliation of exposing his own weakness.

"Then the gold is on board now!" exclaimed the astonished Levi.

"Yes, sir; it is concealed in the run," replied Augustus.

"Why didn't you tell me of all this before?"

"Because I wished to find the men that stole the money. I thought I could do it better alone than I could with the constables, or anybody else," answered Augustus; but he hung his head as he thought of the dishonest purpose he had cherished.

He had resisted the temptation, but his conscience was sensitive enough to make him regret that he had even been tempted to steal.

Levi was thoughtful and troubled. The triumphant vindication of his captain which the steward had promised himself to bring about was not likely to be realized. The gold was on board of the yacht, and could be restored to Mr. Fairfield; but the vessel had been searched for it, and restoring it looked more like confirming the vile charge against him than like disproving it. Perhaps it would be better for his reputation to keep the money until the return of Ben Seaver; but Levi could not believe it was right to retain the gold even a single day. He was honest and true, and he determined to do his duty before God and man, letting his reputation take care of itself.

He directed the steward to bring out the bags from their hiding-place. The name on the tow-cloth, in his uncle's cramped writing, assured him there could be no mistake in regard to the ownership. The steward told him there was thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars in the bags—one hundred and fifty dollars less than the sum lost. The robbers had probably taken out one hundred dollars for present use, and fifty for the snare which was to intrap the captain of the yacht. One of the bags had been emptied, and its contents distributed among the other three.

The gold was transferred to the boat, the cabin doors and forward scuttles were locked, and Levi, accompanied by the steward, pulled ashore, and landed at Mr. Watson's house.

The exciting story of the recovery of the money was repeated, and the young skipper declared his intention to restore the bags to Mr. Fairfield. Mr. Watson volunteered to go with him on this interesting errand. With the bags in his hands, Levi entered the kitchen, where his uncle was seated, followed by his constant friend.

"There is your money, uncle Nathan," said he, as he placed the bags on the table.

"What! the gold?" demanded the miser, with breathless eagerness.

"Yes, sir, the gold," replied Levi.

"All of it?" gasped the old man, rising from his chair, while his frame trembled under the excitement of the moment.

"All but one hundred and fifty dollars."

"I think you ought to give me back the whole on't, Levi."

"Fifty dollars more of it is in the hands of Squire Saunders."

"But then there's a hund'ed gone," added the old man, as he clutched the bags, and raised them to test their weight.

"I suppose the thieves took a hundred dollars of the money," said Levi.

"Who's the thieves?"

"I don't know who they are; but I think they will be discovered in due time. The steward of the yacht found these bags in the old fish-house that was burned."

Mr. Watson and Levi had agreed that the ends of justice would best be answered by saying no more than this at present. Both of them were satisfied that Dock Vincent was one of the robbers, but unfortunately there was no evidence that connected him with the crime. Though he had gone on board the yacht, and demanded the gold of the steward, he had done so in the name of the owner; and the act was consistent with his position as the agent of Mr. Fairfield.

The old man asked a great many questions, but he obtained only the facts; all theories and suspicions were suppressed. Mr. Watson had sent the steward for Mr. Gayles, and before they left the miser's house he arrived; and the party proposed to visit the fish-house, and examine the premises, in search of any evidence that might be obtained.

Though Mr. Fairfield was overjoyed to find his gold, his satisfaction did not prevent him from growling sorely at the loss of the hundred dollars. He insisted that Levi ought to make it up to him. He followed the party out of the house, and would have gone to the ruins of the Hotel de Poisson with them, if Dock Vincent, who had just landed, had not joined him.

The steward told his story over again; and the metallic parts of the lantern, which still remained there, were a partial confirmation of the truth of it. Mr. Gayles took possession of these pieces, hoping to be able to prove something by them. While they were still discussing the matter, Dock Vincent and Mr. Fairfield joined them.

"If you make up that hund'ed dollars, Levi, I won't say nothin' more about it," whined the old man.

"I shall not do so, uncle Nathan," replied Levi.

"Certainly not," added Mr. Watson.

"He ought to do it," interposed Dock. "He stole the money, and the least he can do is to give it all back."

"I do not wish to hold any conversation with you on the subject," answered the merchant, coldly.

"I suppose you don't," sneered Dock. "It has all turned out just as I said it would. Levi stole the money, and got that black steward to help him when he was like to be found out. I knew, all the time, that money was on board the yacht; and Squire Fairfield may thank me for getting it for him. I made the steward own up that the gold was on board; and after that Levi didn't dare to keep it any longer. I suppose you don't want to say anything more about it after that."

"Not to you," added Mr. Watson, as he walked away, followed by his companions.

"There, Squire Fairfield, you can see them sneaking off like sheep-stealers," said Dock. "It's just as I tell you, you may depend upon it; and if Levi don't make up that hundred, I should put him through a course of sprouts."

"He ought to gim me the whole of the money," replied Mr. Fairfield, who accepted Dock's explanation in regard to the recovery of the gold.

"I reckon you'll get it yet. But, Squire Fairfield, I expect I shall get off in two or three days now, and I want that money I spoke to you about," added Dock, as they walked towards the road. "I am going to sail for New York first, buy the goods there, and then go to Australia. You are going to make thirty thousand dollars out of me, and you can afford to accommodate me a little. I expect you will get the whole thirty thousand before I sail from New York; I know you will."

Dock talked half of that night to the old man, and finally persuaded him to raise the sum he required. The gold which had been restored to him made up a large portion of it, and the next day he obtained the rest. The emigrant had sold his house, and disposed of his furniture to the buyer, who was to have possession as soon as Dock sailed.

While Mr. Fairfield and his villanous companion were discussing the loan, Mr. Gayles called at Dock's house, after dark, to borrow a lantern, having ascertained that he had recently purchased one at a store in town.

"We haven't any lantern now," replied Mrs. Vincent.

"I thought you had one. Captain Vincent bought one not long ago," added the constable.

"Well, he hasn't any now. I'm sure I don't know what's become of it. It may be he left it on board of the vessel. He never said what had become of it."

Without having proved the fact, Mr. Gayles was satisfied that Dock's lantern was the one broken by the steward when he fell from the loft of the fish-house. The parts he had taken from the ruins corresponded, in size and form, with one which the shopkeeper declared was like that he had sold Dock. The constable worked hard to obtain evidence enough to warrant the arrest of Dock before he sailed for Australia; but Squire Cleaves declared that the lantern was not sufficient.

On the day after Dock obtained the money from Mr. Fairfield, he moved his family on board of the Caribbee, which had already cleared at the custom-house. Mr. Gayles was alarmed lest he should escape, and hastened to Squire Cleaves for advice.

"We must not let him go," said the lawyer. "Where is that colored man, Mr. Ebenier?"

"I saw him at Mr. Watson's house ten minutes ago."

"Bring him to me."

The steward was brought to him, and he was induced to make a charge against Dock of assault and battery. A warrant was obtained, and Mr. Gayles, with a sufficient posse, went to the Caribbee to arrest him. His wife, and a man whose name was not known, but who was said to be a passenger in the schooner, declared that he had gone to New York on business, and the vessel would not sail till his return. Certainly Dock was not on board, and it was ascertained at the depot that he had taken the train for Boston.



CHAPTER XVIII.

MAT MOGMORE.

Mr. Gayles watched the Caribbee night and day; but he saw nothing of Dock Vincent. Mr. Fairfield said his neighbor and friend had informed him, several days before, of his intention to go to New York. The constable was forced to believe that the people on board his vessel had told the truth, and he could only wait for his return. Of course the Caribbee would not sail on her long voyage without him, and there seemed to be but little danger of losing his man.

The only strange circumstance was, that Dock had sent his family on board of the vessel; but he had not much consideration for his wife and children, and would not scruple to add a week of confinement to the three or four months' duration of the proposed voyage. The man on board, who was said to be a passenger, and was a stranger in Rockport, appeared to take a lively interest in the affairs of the vessel and her owner. It was surmised that, as Dock was not a skilful navigator, he had been employed to furnish the science for the vessel. Neither he nor any one on board professed to know when Dock would return, or when the Caribbee would sail.

On Monday evening, when Dock had been gone three days, Levi had taken tea at Mr. Watson's, and was reading the daily paper, which the merchant had brought from Boston.

"That's too bad!" suddenly exclaimed the young skipper, dropping the paper, and looking at Bessie.

"What's too bad, Levi?" she asked.

"There's to be a yacht race in Portland harbor to-morrow, at eleven o'clock, to sail for a silver pitcher."

"I do not see anything wicked in that," laughed Bessie.

"Nor I; but it is wicked that I did not know of it before. I am sure The Starry Flag will beat anything of her size this side of New York; and I am provoked to think I did not know of this race sooner, for a silver pitcher would be a very handsome ornament for our cabin."

"Is it too late now?" asked Mr. Watson.

"The race comes off at eleven, to-morrow forenoon, and five yachts have already entered," answered Levi, glancing at the paper again.

"Well, haven't you time to sail down there before the race?"

"If we sail to-night we have time enough. We can get there in ten hours with a good breeze; with a stiff one, in six," replied Levi, beginning to be excited.

"How is the wind now?"

"About west—a six-knot breeze."

"Let us start at once, then. I had as lief sleep on board the yacht as on shore," said Mr. Watson.

"O, do go!" exclaimed Bessie.

"Do go!" repeated Mr. Watson, laughing. "Do you expect to sail in a regatta, Bessie?"

"To be sure I do! I must go, father! I have been longing, ever since we had the yacht, to sail in a real live race."

"But, Bessie, we must make a night run to Portland."

"So much the better! I shall enjoy it above all things. My state-room on board is just as good as my chamber up stairs, and I like it better."

"Your aunt Mary is sick, and cannot go with you," suggested her father, alluding to Mrs. McGilvery.

"But you are going, father," persisted Bessie.

"True, I am; but——"

"Do let me go, father."

"I suppose you must go if you insist upon it."

"I do insist with all my might!" exclaimed Bessie, delighted with the prospect.

"It will take us a couple of hours to get ready," said Levi, as he looked at his watch; "but we can get off by ten o'clock. The only difficulty I can see is, that yachts must be entered on the day before the race;" and he picked up the newspaper again.