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Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending March 28, 1903
15he Ocean Tramp Giselda
A Tale of
JeKyl Island
•Special Mention Story in Sunny South Prize Content
By Lucy Violet Lloyd
r _^ a was at the decline of a
w' J day in early summer when
I the ocean tramp Glsefda
J swung out of the mouth of
— the Hudson and down the
waters of New York bay.
Out of the swarms and
schools of small boats,
sloops, schooners and large
ships, loading or unload
ing cargoes brought from
or bound to every port un
der the sun.
There was an end of the
contusion and clamor, of swarms of
sailors and landsmen, motley individuals
from every clime, from the respectable
American to the almond-eyed Oriental of
dusky Ethiopian; there was an end of
the cry of want, the laugh of the reck
less, the oaths and jokes of the tars and
stevedores, and above and beyond the
roar of the mighty city (city or cities?),
where New York, New Jersey and Brook
lyn unite in one mad center, where near
ly one-tenth of the population of a great
country live and struggle in poverty and
splendor, where traffic is never still and
the basilisk eye of Greed Is never closed.
Ten days the ocean tramp Giselda had
lingered and loitered about the mouth of
the broad river, and her black hull, rak
ish rigging and dark, foreign crew had
oiien aroused the curiosity and suspicion
of the observer. So strongly did her ap
pearance smack of smuggling and piracy
that she seemed a relic of the days of
bloody deeds upon the Spanish main. Nev
ertheless. as much as any one knew the
Giselda was as innocent a craft as there
was upon the waters. She now had a
mixed cargo of manufactured articles and
a few passengers and was bound for va
rious ports along the southern shores of
tne United states.
Slowly, like a great drowsy bird, she
glided over the waters, lit red by the set
ting sun that dyed the waves and ren
dered the shores of Long and Staten
Islands bank?* of rubicund sand.‘-Anri
as the Giselda plowed out of the bay
and great New York grew dim in the
distance. Hugh Darnley stood on her
deck, leaning lazily against the railing
under the spell of a fragrant cigar. His
hands were thrust in the pockets of his
light spring suit, his hat w'as tilted slight
ly over his eyes that roved from the
water to his fellow-passengers opposite
him. He was a rather handsome young
man of 27, with a figure of medium
height, regular features expressive of
both strength and inujrference, keen blue
eyes and curly brown hair.
Smiling to himself he lifted his gaze
to the dingy rigging of the Giselda.
"Fancy Hugh Darnl?y sailing as a pas
senger on the ocean tramp Giselda! What
would Mrs. Upton say? But who would
have thought uiat my cousin was going
to sail all over the Atlantic with my
yacht this summer or that I myself would
be *so soon seized with a mania for
cruising in southern waters?” He
laughed softly, half ironically, and threw
the remnant of his cigar out upon the
dancing wate^. As he did so a diamond
ring upon his hand caught a lingering
ray of the sun and, flashing a beam -to
ward the other side of the ship, carried
his glance to his fellow-passengers, where
it rested. They were few in number. A
stout old lady and her son, a portly old
gentleman, a sporty young man whist
ling “Good Old New York Town,” arid—
a girl accompanied by a little colored
maid. She, the girl, was the only one
who could be called interesting, and she
interested him at once. She had evi
dently not gone below since the ship left
the harbor, for the little maid crouched
near her feet with a valise and several
small packages. .
The girl was a little above medium
height, possessing a supple, rather grace
ful figure. Her dress was all brown, soft
and brown and demure; the little sailor
that nestled upon her hair, the glove upon
the slender hand clinging to the railing.
Her face was striking—a pure oval, the
complexion of a creamy pallor, relieved
by the red curve of the wide, sensitive,
mouth, the eyes large and gray, shaded
by lashes a trifle darker than the gold
tinted hair that contrasted so prettify
with the broad, white brow, hair thrift
made one think of the sunlight filterihg
through brown- autumn leaves, v There
was something in the eyes and about the'
still figure eloquent of despair, of Re
pressed force, -of crushed buoyancy, so
cold and. fearless and proud. Gradually
she drew away and. turned facing him-
Their gaze met; one instant the sad,
hopeless eyes looked-into his,, lazy and
blue and honest, then a startled, fright
ened look leaped into -them and the flut
tering lashes Xell.
The sporty ybung man was also^giving
her his undivided attention. He ceased
whistling arid stared boldly at her avert
ed face. Then, thrusting his hands into
his pockets, he sauntered over to Hugh
with that familiarity and good will which
are so wearying. “Deuced pretty, ain’t
she?” he remarked loud enough for the
girl to hear. “Rather so,” replied Darn-
• ley, good-naturedly offering the youth a
cigar. However, he was careful to lower
his voice. “A fellow could live with that
sort of a girl a lifetime rind never get
acquainted with her,” ventured the young
man again. Hugh vouchsafed no opinion,
but resolved that he would get acquaint
ed with her before the voyage was over. .
Finding him dull company the young
man walked away. Jnst then the girl
motioned to her colored attendant and
turned and went below, so finding no one
else to hold his attention Hugh made
a shrewd survey of the crew. The sailors
were rough, motley fellows, apparently
all foreign, and much more wicked than
•the average f o’ castle gang. They worked
with a dogged energy, seemed moody and
sullen toward their captain, talked little
among themselves and swore softly in
broken English. The captain was a tall,
dark man, rather handsome, of Spanish
descent and a native of Cuba. Though
he inspired any one with distrust, yet
his courteous manners, beautiful eyes a"hd
quaint language attracted one at the
same time. The first mate was equally
as interesting, a typical American tar, an
old sea dog grown gray in the battle
against winds and waves, good-hearted,
blunt and sadly ungrammatical. Hugh
became friendly with him at once.
As for the girl, he did not see her again
until dinner. She sat opposite him across
the table, her hair more sheeny, her eyes
more subtle, her face more pallid in the
soft lamplight. The captain sat by and
Hugh ascertained the spot and began the process of disinterring the gofd
'they conversed In low tones, IJe appar- ,
ently enjoying the talk, she smiling cold
ly now and again. . " >:
He noticed that her volce''had that
southern softness which' pleases the ear
and haunts the memory, and despite her
fair akin and light hair he guessed that
she was native to a warm climate. The
captain seemed to feel" himself well ac
quainted with her and bore himself to
ward her with an air of ownership that
made Hugh Involuntarily long to examine
his collar.- Darnley endeavored to catch
her glance, to draw her attention or make
her speak to him, in vain; she met all
advances with cold politeness. She spoke
by nods and in monosyllables.
At last the captain arose and left the
table. StOI the girl lingered and toyed
with her ‘fork. The other nassengeis
were chatting pleasantly among them
selves and the silence of his companion
was oppressive to Hugh.
“We shall have a lovely moon tonight,”
he remarked. She lifted her eyes slightly
and began slipping a ring up and down
her finger with a hopeless monotony. It
was an odd ring, a thin gold serpent with
emerald eyes. Just then the first mate
came In and sat down to the girl s left.
With little ceremony and without a word
he began ministering to his frame^late
wants. Then he noticed the girl Watching
him ctirlously. His shrewd ■_ kind • eyes ■
regarded her. She looked frail and chiid- ‘
lsh -and so alone In the lamplight. Hugh
was sure she could not be much over
20.
“Ever been aboard ship afore, miss?”
asked the old sailor.
"Once," she replied.
“A long voyage?”
"From Florida to New York.” Her an
swer was vague.
“Then you ain’t - felt - the seasick since
you been aboard the <?iselda?” he said
again.
“No," she said, smiling, “hut It was
miserable the first time.” She raised her
brqw, showing the delicate blue veins.
“You seem to know our captain pretty
well. I can’t call hiw name. • This Is my
first trip with him. Alius’ sailed with an
, honest American before.” - He half grum
bled to himself.
“I have known Senor Varado several
years,” she returned, still toying with the
serpent ring.
Without knowing why, Darnley began
to mentally associate the ring with the
captain. She was his sweetheart, per-
Haps his wife, secretly. If so, she was a
cold lady-love. At length she arose and
left the table, as did the first mate and •
Darnley'at the same. time.
“How is the sea tonight, ifr. Hendrick?”
Darnley asked the "Sailor. ,
• “As gentle , as ,a'gal on Sunday, and as
unreliable.’’ returned Hendrick.
Hugh laughed, and the girl disappeared
with a flickering smile and a shrug of
her .delicate shoulders. Darnley went to
hfs apartment, a small, stuffy place,
gaudy and grotesque In its furnishings,
yet comfortable wlfhal. The Giselda did
not..afford very elegant accommodations.
He read a little and wrote In his journal,
a lifetime habit. He was beginning to
feel horribly; bored. ' They were getting
out on the ocean now, with a placid, low
running sea, the wide stretch of water.
Lie cries of tho seabirds. How monoton- ,
ous, and he had days of this soft of thing
.before him. He half wished that he had.-
remained In New York,, then turned hts
light low and went’up on deck.
The- moon was just coming up above.
the -rim ; of the ;Water and the sea was
glittering beneath her rays. A few scat- .
tered stars twinkled around, her .placid
crescent. The night was calm and warm,
and the .sailors, excepting the watch, were
for the most part idle. They were all
stretched out upon the decks, smoking
or talking. One sat on a campstool play
ing low, mellow chords upon a guitar and
singing. The words were Spanish, the
melody sad and wild. There was an
abundance of profanity and tobacco.
Near the railing, seated in a deck chair,
he saw the girl, quiet and silent, her hair
and the snake ring glittering in the moon-
. light.. Beside her, bending over and talk
ing in low tones, was the captain.
“That dark chap must be plotting pi
racy," thought Hugh. "I dare say the >
girl’s an abettor, and this motley gang
will. be able assistants. Myself and old
Bob Hendrick are lucky If we’ escape with
our fives. Fortunately they don’t know
that I’m worth at million and carry a
good -many ’valuable^.’ "' And he whis-
tiedfllscoqpolatelyandwent over and look
ed. fjowii Into the .water, half wishing for-
a-atom.or a wreck. But things went on
this, way for several days, and monotony
remakied unbroken, neither mutiny arose
nor; piracy was attempted, nor a storm,
and he did not get acquainted with the
girl. He saw her constantly, at the table
and on deck. She seemed to love the sun
shine and the seabreeze. For hours she
would sit in her favorite chair near the
railing, tjjp little negro stretched at her
feet basking in the sun or enjoying the
cool of evening. Sometimes the girl read
and sometimes sat looking across the
endless waste of water with' her wond
rous, hopeless eyes or with her head
bMtred on her hands, a motionless picture
of daepair, but more often she studied
an old-diary and sundry papers and rude
drawings yellow with age. Hugh grew
more vexed and curious, but one day the
fates followed him.
It w*s near the decline of day, a warm,
beautiful day, when weary of an empty
life, he came on deck for a breath of
air. The red orb of the sun Just dipped
the sea. and made gory paths across the
water. They had been out at sea more
than a week and were now in the blue
waters of the beautiful south. The lazy
charm of the south lay over all. They.
had touched at a few ports, but little had
occurred to lessen the dullness. Darnley)
, thrust his hands into. bis pockets ffnd
strolled along the dingy decks of the
ocean tramp. He espied the girl. For
once the little negro was not with her.
A light'blue waist and the soft brown
skirt clothed her lithesome form, a wide
hlue hat shaded her face, accentuating
her pallor. She looked white and languid,
hut her hair and eyes were glorious as
she bent Intently over the musty old
journals and papers. All was dead calm.
A guitar, one of Darnley’s favorite In
struments, leaned against a camp stool,
left there by some of the sailors. Feel
ing the Intense silence and loneliness to
be unendurable, he took it up and thump
ed i Idly upon the strings.
The sun had dropped out of sight and
the pale mooi^hung low above the sea.
■ Seating himself he played and sung soft-
1 ly, his voice a tenor sweet and clear.
"I’ve a longing in my heart for you,
Louise,” he sang. The girl raised her
eyes,, her .hands folded in her lap, a pen-
. sive brooding came Intb her face. She
was listening. .Suddenly a Any breeze
came whispering through the stillness, but
growing bold and brisk, whisked a paper
trom the girl’s lap, and having coquetted
with it a moment, lodged it, for an instant
fluttering In the rigging. It was but an
instant, yet in that instant Hugh Darn
ley sprang from his seat and caught the
thin, faded paper in his hand, as he
crushed it between his fingers the girl
came hurriedly forward, pale and anx
ious.
“It is mine,” she said, tremulously, hold
ing out her hand for the valued paper
an- lifting her innocent, frightened eyes.
“I knew it was yours,” he said, passing
, it over to her, “and I 'guessed It wag of
value, so I made haste to secure it. An
other second and it would have been
gone.” He smiled and she thought his
n wonderfully pleasant face, but when
he gave her the paper their fingers had
touched and she had shivered. His hands
were so warm afty. strong, arid she hated
warmth and strength. It was so like an
animal, and -her own hands were always
so soft and ’cool and white, like the petals
of a flower.
“I can never thank you sufficiently,”
she faltered. “It was nothing I assure
ycu, Miss.” He paused and looked
straight into her gray eyes, for he was
determined to learn her name.
“My name is Fenton,” she said, coolly.
“And mine Is Otley,” he said, with" •
reckless .prevarication substituting for
his true name the first that came to his
mind. He did not know why, hut he
fancied that if she knew his true name
and station she might - increase her
coldness to him, a thing he most heartily
did not wish for.
She Wfnt over to her former.seat and
stood looking down into the water. He
vent and stood near her.
“We are in southern waters, now,” he
remarked.
“Yes. Jp the south, the beautiful south,
always"!he loveliest part of the warty
to me,” she returned with a sigh.
“You are Southern,” he said.
“Decidedly.” ‘ .
“And, then, you are going home,” he
queried.
“Yes and no, too.” said Miss Fenton.
CONTINUED ON FOURTH PAGE.
Hearts
By flallie Efminie Rives
HMH
“■SmoKinf
*A Furnace of Earth*
Etc
Author of
\g Flax”
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN,
THE PACKET.
HE shadow of Anne’s grief
' hung heavy over Gladden
Hall a ■ few days later,
where Henry and Colonel
Tillotson sat alone in the
library conversing. It was
the eve of the former’s de
parture for the second
Congress. .
“Patrick”—the colonel
came out squarely—"what
make you of the arrest of
La Trouerle?”
“There is something
wrons. Colonel.” he answered. “And
’twill out. Mark me, that young man
is no charlatan. I would stake my soul
he is not of low character. You are
judge enough of human nature to know
that.”
“Caryl was on the ship. Besides, he
admitted it himself, when he was seized
at the Raleigh.”
Henry leaped from his seat with an
exclamation.
“Granted he is not the marquis. The
man is no impostor. I want nothing but
that night at the King’s arms in Win
chester to, convince me of that. My
God! You should have seen him fight
Foy! Hang your marquises! Armarid is
a man, I tell you! What was there to
gain by a vulgar masquerade?”
Rashieigh at this juncture entered,
hearing a salver.
•'Letter for Mas' Henry." said he.
Mars' Randolph’s Eb'nezer fotch it ober
arbor him turn Williamsburg 1. is
H.r.ry. breaking the s-
”'tis from Doctor Franklin. Business of
the Colonies, surely. Stay—you shall
hear it—
. ” *London, January 10, 1773.
“ ’Sir—Dr. Craik, who needs no intro
duction'to you, on hls_return to Virginia,
will see that this reaches your hand. It
will Inform you that M. de Penet Is ar
rived from Philadelphia. He astonished
me much when he iold roe that it was too
discreetly doubted In the Colonies as to
the disposition of the Court of France
with regard to us. The English Court
here has little of this doubt; indeed, there
has been actual trepidation. The good
news I send by this letter will show you
that there was abundant ground for such
fears. Not only have King Louis and M.
Turgot, his Minister of Finance, consid
ered together by what means they might
assist so unhappy and interesting a peo
ple. but I have just learned that a noble
man of great family connection and great
wealth is lately sailed for your Colony—
an officer in the flower of his age, who
has already proved his talents in Corsica.
I am informed by our co-worker Beau
marchais. who is now here at the town
house of Lord Mayor Wilkes in Prince’s
Court, that this gentleman’s judgment
is much’ valued at-Marseilles, and in case
the state' of the Cause in Virginia (whicn
the king deems most important of the'
Southern Colonies) seems to warrant, he
will doubtless be commissioned to make
certain representations touching aid and
comfort to come from France in the event
of united hostilities. I am satisfied that
any civilities and respect that may be
shown M. the Marquis de la Trouerie
will be serviceable to our affairs. His
.mission is oi course secret. I shall in-
l >rm r.o one else of this, trusting the in
formation to your whole discretion.
“ ‘I have/the Honor to he,
“•Sir,
“ ‘Your most obedient Servant,
“ B. FRANKLIN.
“ 'Patrick Henry, Esq.,
“ ‘Williamsburg, Virginia.’ ”
Henry? read Blowly, without a pause,
while the- other’s eyes did riot leave his
face; when he had finished, he looked
up with an expression of mingled satis
faction and puzzlement.
“Marquis Be la Trouerle!” Colonel Til
lotson exclaimed. “Armand’s master,
then, was the messenger of France! And
. is doubtless In Virginia now. But
how dares the secretary pose as his mas
ter?”
“Because the marquis is dead,” fell a
heavy voice behind them.
The host got up frowning.
"Captain Jarrat,” said he brusquely,
"I like not well these soft-footed Intru
sions. Nor, If I-may say It, do I like the
dress you wear. Times jre come when I
no-longer welcome a coat of that color
in my house.”
A smoldering red rose to Jarrat’s cheek,
but he spoke evenly. T should beg par
don, Colonel, for an unceremonious intru
sion into a conversation. Rashieigh let
me In.”
“Damn Rashieigh!” said the coTbnel
unmistakably.
“I rode to inquire for Mistress Tillot
son,’’ the visitor continued; “but since I
am unwelcome, why, I will betake my
self home again."
“One moment. Colonel,” Interposed
Henry. "Captain, we spoke of a" gentle
man as you entered. ' May I ask what
basis you have for your information?”
Jarrat took out his pocketbook. drew
forth a yellow paper and handed it to
Henry. “The Marquis de la Trouerie
died en route ’to these colonies and was
buried at sea. There is the leaf from
the log-fcook of the Two Sisters re
counting tl*e unhappy incident. The
news of ihis,death was suppressed in
British interests.”
“And the secretary?” Hqpry’s voice
was calm.
“The v incident als now . closed, gentle
men, and I violate no confidence. He
was bought by the earl—for services.”
“My God!” ejaculated Colonel Tillot
son. “Are we never to know -truth in
this world? Hp was not an impostor
and a charlatari. No. He was a Brit-,
ish spy!” „
“Why. then,” ; interrogated Henry, .
' did Dunraore expose him?” .
“I exposed, him.’.’
“You!” t'he colonel cried. .
“I had crossed on the same ship and
r< cognized him at Williamsburg. Dis
covering the true slate of affairs, can
you wonder. Colonel Tillotson, at my
concern lor the intimacy which 1 saw
giing between your mece and this per
son? I think.” he said, masking a glow
worm gleam in his eyes, "that my feel
ing for Mistress Tillotson is not misun
derstood by you. I knew Lord L*un-
more's plan and I could not oper.iv tell
you the truth. Is it a wonder I rorgot
that I was fi king's man? I did the one
thing left to. me. I set afloat such sus
picions that the governor, to save his
own repute with Williamsburg, was com
pelled tb sacrifice his minion, to himself
expose the Imposture and to cry himself
also deceived. I tell you thus muoh In
confidence. Believe me, sir, I steered
the best I knew between the hurt of
a lady whom I honor and the govcrnor’3
displeasure. It was the Scylla of duty
ar.d the Gfiarybdis of love Colonei. I
love your niece; and I would not see her
suffer humiliation.” *
Colonel Tillotson rose and naced up
and down the floor, plucking at the side-
curls of his wig....
' “An what'you tell us : is true,” he said.'
meditating, “I have done you wrong. I
am not overkind to your colors^ but s I
have a respect for honest loyalty.. God
knows ’.tls scarce enough. Mayhap I
have been-unjust.' Will yoube seated?”
Jarrat ?sat down, his watchful eyes
turning about., the room, something
strangely like expectancy in them.
The colonel rang for ’his major-domo.
”Rastyleieh.”.said he -soberly, “ask your
Mis’ Aniie to cotne to the library. And .
admit’ Ob one—no one. Do you hear?”
“Yas. Mar*a; yas, suh! Nuttin’ but er
giabe-ydrd ha’rit gwlnefer git by dat
"do’-!*' ■ • • • - : • . ’
1 . “Poor . child!” Henry’s tone was piti
ful. - “You mean to.tell h er? At least
waif till. your, wife Is returned.”
"The ' sooner she hears some things
the better for her; she has her shale of
pride. Never fear.”
“The day I was ’ last here, sir,” ob
served Jarrat. “she boasted she would
wed him an he were a laborer in your
fields.”
“Aye, maybe, hut not if be were a
conspirer against her country. My
r.iece. is a daughter, of Virginia, sir!”
And the master of Gladden hail rolgily
took snuff to cover ; his feelings. Henry’s
face was like a sphinx. .
While they waited, caine a clattei of
hoofs .outside; a moment later the hall
door was flung open and Rashieigh was
heard’In excited jabbering. The colinel
repeated an objurgation.
The next Instant he jumped to his feet
and jarrat started as if at on apparition.
Armand stood on the threshold, coarsely
dressed, mud-splashed and pale.?
The newcomer’s look ignored the cap
tain. He bowed to Colonel Tillotscn and
addressed himself to Henry:
“Monsieur. I come to warn you that a
detachment of Dunmore’s men is on Its
way hither from Yorktown to seize your
person.”
“The devil!” shot out the colonel like a
Javelin. ■”I thought the price the earl
put 6ri- you, Patrick, was tut brag. He
dares violate my house, ‘then. Mount
at once and away by the north rotid.”
■ Henry’s gaze had seemed to dart and
play'about’ the young Frenchman’s face
like yellow summer lightning. “And
what would the governor with me this
time?”
. “To, transport you to trial for high
treason-. It was plotted this day aboard
the Eowey.”
“Frpm which ycu are escaped?”
“Yes. Monsieur.”
Jarrat’s voice entered: “To attack the
residence of a Virginian gentleman with
out crown warrant is not so ready a
thing, even for a royal governor; hut a
irian may disappear by night from a
lonely road and who to blame?- Our
fleeing marquis, with his nose for deli
cate deceits. is a likely cat's-paw.
Faugh! I swear such overt folly of Dun-
n-ore's will yet drive mo into Whiggery!”
Colonel Tilotson paused m perplexity,
but. Henry looked at the speaker with a
gaze keen and inscrutable as an Indian's
above that flickering half-smile of his.
“You have no time to spare. Monsieur.
They were to leave the Fowey it sun
down. I implore you to haste.”
“As well,” cautioned Jarrat, “to go
by another way than the marquis antici
pates. j
"You liar!” said Armand, flaming On
.him. "This man was in the plot. He
waits the troops here at this moment.
Monsieur, I beseech . . ”
He did not flnish, stricken dumb by the ”
entrance of Anne. She had caught her
breath at sight of him and stood, statue-'
CONTINUED OX ’ I. VST '
VOLUME XU
NUMBER FOUR