Newspaper Page Text
CAPTAIN SAZARAC
-^asa— MM
By CHARLES TENNEY JACKSON
Copyright by The Bobbe-Merrill Company
| OFFER A SHIP”
SYNOPSIS. —Under the name of
“Captain Sazarac,” and disguised,
jean Lafitte. former freebooter
of Barataria, proscribed, returns
to the city of New Orleans. He
is recognized by two of his old
companions, Alderman Dominique
and Beluche. At the gaming
tables Sazarac has won much
money from Colsne! Carr, Brit
; officer. John Jarvis, the city s
< -t bohemian of the arts and
letters, an oldtime friend of La
rue, tells of a woman's face and
smile. As his last wager, Carr
1 its up a woman, presumably a
-lave. Custom compels Sazarac
to accept the stake. He wins.
IBs old associates and Count
1-iaoul de Almonaster accost him
as Lafitte. A project of the
• vithful adventurers of New Of-
Ba ns is the rescue of Napoleon
Bonaparte from St. Helena, and
a-• ip, the Seraphine, has been
made ready. From De Almonas-
ISazarac learns that the girl
he ' won’' at the card table is
white, of high estate, and that
the matter has been made a by
word in the city’s resorts. Saz
arac tinds Mademoiselle Lestron,
a fellow passenger on a river
stcampr a few days before, and
with whom he had in love,
i. the girl and in chivalry fore
goes his revenge against Carr,
jafvis admires Mademoiselle Les
tron. He Is a witness of the
meeting and picks up a camellia
which the girl had thrown, un
noticed, to Sazarac. Jarvis Is
dangerous; he talks,too much In
his cups. His old associates of
the Barataria days urge Lafitte
to take command of the Sera
phine, ostensibly to rescue Napo
leon but really to fly the black
flag and cruise the seas. He
hesitates. Jarvis is a witness of
the kidnaping of Mademoiselle
Lestron, but his story Is not
given credence. De Almonaster
entertains Sazarac, now admitted
ly Jean Lafitte, at his country
house. Lafitte, accused of the
abduction of Mademoiselle Les
tron, is warned of the approach
of a military party seeking to
arrest him. He escapes to the
swamps of Barataria. Lafitte
learns that Mademoiselle Lestron
has been placed on the ship
Gen ron, for the West Indies. In
fluenced by his followers of the
freebootihg days, and by De Al
moriaster, chief-owner of thejS.er
aphine,; Lafitte agrees to
the ship and sail to the rescue
of Mademoiselle Lestron.
CHAPTER Vll—Continued.
—lo—
took his snuff debonairly. And
suddenly, with a shout of joy, the hairy
giant, Johanness, seized the count’s
slender hand. “There—once more! I
told you, Jean, that this young aristo
crat was the truest advenfurer of tis
all! Now, he proposes a ship! A ship'
for Sazarac!”
The Captain Sazarac In turn grasped
He Almonaster’s hand: “Well, then,
Bohon, get word to the Temple!
Choose your fellows well, and have
them come by the water trails secretly
to Monsieur Berthoud’s plantation
across from the upper city. And not
a field-hand or house-slave must so
much as have sight of a shirt-tall of
you all. No liquor, there! No brawl
ing, until we have descended by the
old smuggler’s road and taken the Na
poleon ship!”
The score of figures crowded on the
lugger’s deck, or wading waist-deep
about her bow, holding the flambeaus
ami striving to listen to the confer
ence. raised a hoarse cry. Crackley,
the leader of the deserters, strove for
dominance over the younger men.
"Eh, bullies! I told you there
Tvould be blood-letting, once we had
the man to lead us! A ship, and then
over the line at the king o’ Spain’s
traffic, says I!”
At a word from Bohon there was a
scattering of the islanders from the
smuggler’s rail. A w’hlspered confer
ence here and there; secret orders
given ; gesticulations of surprise and
exultation, os the lieutenants ex
plained what must be arranged.
At the lugger’s bowthere now stood
but two figures. The gamester, Saza
fnc, had placed a hand on the younger
man’s shoulder.
peril your life and your for
tune, Monsieur. There Is but one
stake for which I would accept such a
mad offer from a friend. One night,
npon the staircase at the hotel, I said
’ intlv, merely as a vagabond may
*Peak his thought, with nothing to lose
■ gain that I loved the lady of my
at Maspero’s. I went my way,
nuking no answer. The moonlight was
on the palms and myrtle ... I
oouh] not well see, but I thought some
:ng fell and vanished from my sight.
‘ ■ '-ht have been her answer.”
•cry likely ft was !he lady’s an
smiled De Almonaster.
Eh. well! Out of the shadows !t
cane Into the shadows It vanished.
It appears to be like my life. It seems
to hate the prophecy of iny love. Ah,
a curious thing!—a flicker In the
moonlight—and silence!"
“I offer, Monsieur, a ship, my friend
ship, my fortune—to compel the lady
to answer!”
The bronzed adventurer laughed
slightly. ‘‘Thank you, Monsieur!”
But suddenly his companion started
with an amazed gasp.
“Sazarac, I have forgotten some
thing! Perdition! It just came to my
dullard mind ! The plot *s to seize the
Seraphine tomorrow night as she lies
at her moorings before the Place
d’Armss!” '
“Certainly the venture cannot be de
layed i moment beyond that —”
“Well and good! But it ts the night
of the banquet to celebrate the plot
Napoleon. I, myself, am to make a
modest speech of acceptance for my
aunt, Baroness Pontalba, as I take
over her interests in outfitting the
Seraphine!”
“I should say it Is very well. Put
ting back to the city at once, with
your blacks, and appearing at the af
fair, you are shielded from all con
nivance with what the infamous Saza
rac may do.”
“Ah, but!” exclaimed De Almohas
ter. “There is to be a ball at the
Theatre d’Orleans. The youth and
chivalry of the city are to dance there,
and then away to the Seraphine her
self to revel and drink to the plot
upon her decks.”
“At what .hour, Monsieur? ,I: admit
this-Is dlsco'ncefting.”
“At twelve o'clock. The ship will
he ablaze with lanterns and hung with
ribbons! Nora de Dieu! It is too late
to change the affair! I could bite my
fingers that f did not think of the
banquet.' Commander Bossiere will
preside. De Marigny, Barre, Pierre
des Trehan, young De la Vergne —the
officers of the garrison and the mu
nicipality—the affair will be an up
roar until sunrise!”
“Midnight,” commented the other.
‘‘Well, then—by Bonaparte, himself—
Monsieur Sazarac shall attend. lie
will stand at flie banquet table hi the
emperor's suite nncl toast the absent
guests. He will be the ghost out of
the dark, and fleeting on lo the dark
ness that awaits him. He will be brief
in his role, this Sazarac —grasping at
a flicker of moonlight; arid for his an
swer—silence.” ‘ .
CHAPTER VIII
The Revelers of the Place d’Armes.
In the tfusky radiance of fhe chain
oil-lamps suspended from corner to
corner, the vagrant candle seller held
his handful of green wax myrtle tapers
high, peering up at the iron gallery
to the possible customer.
“Belles chandelles! Petits belles
chandelles —Madame 1”
The magnificent lady Ignored him
with disdain, and the shabby old fig
ure shambled on with Its cry;
“Belles chandelles, M’sieu! Madame
—belles chandelles!”
At the corner of the rue Royale and
Orleans Just behind the cathedral the
peddler stopped and hitched his cloak
higher over his basket. The rue
d’Orleans was a blaze of light show
ing forth the low facade of the famous
ballroom. From carriages, dusky, be-
Jeweled women were alighting; and
across the cobbles grooms led horses
from which gentlemen had just dis
mounted to wander by groups to the
barroom or to the crowded vestibule
of the Quadroon ball. Laughing, Jest
ing gallants, some of more youthful
appearance glancing rather timoroudy
up the street, for this was a frolic
not countenanced openly—and yet the
gentlemen of the town and the plan
tations would be there. Favorites and
mistresses —the famed beauties of the
demi-monde —and perhaps a few bet
ter recognized were lured to the Ball
d’Orieans to wonder curiously how
brothers, fathers and lovers might
comport themselves at the revel.
The old candle seller, In the shadow
of the trees In the cathedral garden
across the rue Royale, watched un
ceasingly. Behind him lay the narrow
paved Alley St. Antoine between the
church and the gloomy, hlgh-gallerled
buildings jutting over it. The other
end opened on the Place d’Armes; and
beyond that, the levee where there
was a group of lanterns forming an
arch over a carpeted gangway that led
to the deck of the gayly lighted Sera
phlne.
The candle peddler looked each way
casually. At length, from the crowd
before the ballroom vestibule —amidst
; the flash of carriage wheels, sleek
■ coated animals turning among the
I bright-coated gentlemen and shouting
i hostlers, there came one brown-
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
skinned fellow tugging to hold back a
spirited steed. Unsteadily, as by
chance he was Jerked on by the horse,
the groom finally held up at the ban
quette of hroad stones on which stood
the idle candle seller. To him the
groom muttered:
‘‘Monsieur Almonaster is here. He
thought it best. They gibe him round
ly about the affair Lafitte, but he pro
tests —he has given half his plantation
force to tlie military and the city
guard who are beating out the woods
for the stolen lady. lie has f3-
nouneed as deeply as any against the
outrage —and he thought it best to
come join the gallants. How goes It,
Gorgio?”
“With the few of us in town —well.
And, be assured, across the river the
Captain Jean will have his fellows
ready! Be on, now! You must not
talk to me overlong. Only, Teton, we
idle here, armed and watchful —and a
word from your master—"
“Monsieur de Almonaster is to send
word by me —I am to hang about
drinking with the servants at our side
entrance —watching.”
“Word must come In time —before
the party leaves for the ship—we
must know that an hour before.”
“My master will be assured. The
fun grows furious already —It will he
drawn ere they think of supper on the
Seraphine.”
“Be ’gone! Here comes one of the
police guard!”
The quarter-blood groom led on De
Almonaster’s horse. And again the
candle seller raised his monotonous
cry down the rue lioyale. And from
the river end of Antoine’s alley, wan
dered another figure; at tlie deep en
try to the Padre’s house, midway in
the tree-shaded obscurity, the old An
dalusian beggar sank on the stones
with a sigh—and adjusted the pair of
pistols at his belt to more ease.
When Gorgio wandered this way
again, the vagrant seemed asleep.
Then came his mutter: “Perhaps, on
the rue de la Levee —by the first mar
ket stall, there might await a cus
tomer. Thou art ,too noisy at the best
for the Padre’s street, eh —Frore
Diable?”
“Custom is bad at least,” retorted
Gorgio, “but you—the police will
harry you on as well.”
“Not with Padre Antoine, my good
friend, above nt his book," growled the
other. “Do as I bid—l was sent.”
And on Idled the candle man, wftli
his owl-cry to the galleried homes.
Under the thick arches of the ancient
market he bantered hoarsely about the
cabbage and fowl stalls. At this ljotir
the market was little visited and few
kept open. A few lazy Indian women
and mulattoes grumbled hack at Gor
gio’s jests; an early cart or two
backed in to unload for the morrow’s
business, and it was to one of these,
on which a trio of Hucksters smoked
Idly, that the old man came.
They shot down dark. Inscrutable
glances.
“Pierre," muttered Gorgio, “you are
in charge of these?”
“In all, sixteen of us, sleeping about
the stalls,’’ came in the patois. “The
police guards note nothing. But of
the fellows who must cross by tlie
river, there is delay. What was the
hour?”
“It. cannot be set to a moment. At
midnight the ball must have taken
every idler from the plaza to crowd
about and gape at the gentry. Save
for the cursed lights about the ship
itself, all would be clear. It must be
touch and board quickly.”
"Two of Johanness’ men are already
enlisted in the crew. They report all
well, save that old Bosslere fusses
about the tables on the deck —the
lights and wine and cuisine keep the
servants all astir.”
‘‘He will go to the ball later. As
commander of the Napoleon expedi
tion, and the affair In honor of the
Seraphine’s departure on a next week's
tide, the young bravos will have him
in the whirl.”
“Monsieur de Almonaster’s groom Is
to fetch the first word to me—l to Pe
ter, the beggar, who plays the sot on
the steps of the Padre’s house, lie
to you in the market—then you to the
lantern signal under the rue Toulouse
landing. Then the six boats shoot
with all speed from the other shore.
At the first commotion as they swing
aboard, your fellows rush openly from
the market, cast off the mooring lines
and Join. It is overboard with any
who oppose.”
. —•" i
“Ah, to play the part of Saz
arac—one hour!” ?
-
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Hmfwyiimgf ••
Topographer at Work at Midnight on. the Arctic Circle.
'Piepared by tho National Geographic So
ciety, Washington, D. C.)
Alaska, with its other superlatives,
has as its principal eastern boundary
one of the longest surveyed lines in the
world—a line stralghter than any crow
could fly, extending for more than (500
miles over mountain and gorge, glacier
and marsh and meadow, from within
sight of the Pacific ocean in tlie south,
straight north until it cuts the ice
crusted beach of the Arctic ocean. On
the west of this Imaginary line lies
Alaska; on the east, Canada ; and until
about a decade ago no one knew exact
ly where the one ended and the other
began. The surveying of tills line in
the years just preceding tlie World
war —the literal placing of Alaska on
the map—constitutes an epic of ad
venture amid innumerable difficulties,
as well as a notable engineering
achievement.
The southern end of the boundary is
snow-topped Mount Saint Ellas, the
giant among all nearby mountains.
A ridge of this mountain is cut by the
141st meridian which the treaty be
tween the United States and Great
Britain names as the eastern, boundary
line of the greater part of Alaska, and
the problem was to extend this merid
ian on tlie ground through the country
to the north. From Its southern start
ing point the line hurdles for GO miles
over the craggy ranges and the great
glaciers of the Saint Ellas alps. Then
It strikes the White river In whose
broad valley prospectors have lived for
years tunneling Into copper and gold
ores and hoping for the coming of the
railroad, still 40 miles away to the
west at Kennlcott.
The boundary line, In Its northern
progress, early leaves perpetual snow
behind. Mt. Natazhat, Just south of
the White river, Is the last stand of
summer snow; and from there north
ward, even to the edge of the Arctic
ocean, there Is a season annually dur
ing which no snow or Ice Is In evi
dence.
Regions Full of Game.
The White river marks a definite
change In the character of the country.
Just north of the stream are low,
rolling hills, the favorite habitat of
wild sheep. Farther one encounters
low, lake-studded muskeg marshes, the
home of numerous moose. These re
gions make up a paradise for hunts
men; curlbou, sheep, moose and bear
may be found nt almost any season;
and the streams seem alive with fish.
Tlie line passes the headwaters of the
Tatiana river, the Yukon's chief Alus
kan tributary, and then passes on to
the Ladue river which also flows to
the Yukon, but In the opposite direc
tion, through Canadian territory.
At Forty Mile river the line passes
through the first Important gold “dig
gings" on the Alaskan side In the
Yukon region und then a few miles
farther on strikes the great Yukon
river, “the Mississippi of the North.”
The town of Eagle, on the Yukon, lies
Just beside the line, barely within
United States territory. This, though
but a small town, Is Alaska’s most Im
portant community on Its meridian
frontier.
North of Eagle the boundary climbs
the Yukon’s abrupt northern bank;
crosses the Tatonduk hills, also a fa
vored stamping ground for wild sheep;
traverses the Nation river and the bar
ren hills and ridges beyond; and strug
gles through the bottomless marshes of
the Big Black river. Now It Is getting
Into a country that really deserves the
name of wilderness. At the Porcu
pine river It again, and for the last
time, crosses a navigable stream and
the beaten path. There, as close to
the line on the Canadian side as Eagle
Is on that of the United States, Is
New Rampart House, one of the most
northern of Canadian trading posts.
From Rampart House the fine ex
tends 150 miles more before It comes
to salt water. It passes through the
lake country of the Old Crow rivet,
over the American, Davidson and Brit
ish mountains, and then down to the
terminal monument on tlie bleak shore
that looks off toward the North Pole.
Surveyed by Joint Commission.
Both the United States and Canada
were vitally Interested in tlie proper
location of the 141st meridian, and the
work was therefore entrusted to a
joint commission with members from
the two countries. Work could be per
formed only during tlie open summer
seasons, and more than five years were
required to complete the job. Wherever
there was timber, a vista 20 feet wide
was cut through It. Monuments, visi
ble from the adjacent ones on each
side, were placed along tlie line not
more than four miles apart. Finally
a detailed map was made of a strip
of country extending two miles on each
side of the boundary. Five-foot
aluminum-bronze shafts set In' a ton
of, concrete were placed at prominent
river crossings and at maln-truveled
points. At less Important points three
foot cones of metal were set In a
lighter concrete base. ,
In the survey 1 of the’" 141st meridian
probably greater obstacles liu< ( l to be
overcome than In most other surveys
of recent' times. The transportation
of supplies and instrument? was one of
the major problems. The'meridian Is
crossed in only tvtfo places by possible
routes of water transportation—at tlie
Yukon river, navigable by large river
steamers, and at tlie Porcupine, on
which small craft may ply. For more
than 200 miles south of the Yukon,
food, feed for horses, camp outfit, in
struments and personnel had to be
carried for the most part on paqjf
horses whether the way led over
mountains, tundra, meadow or swmnp.
Two miles an hour was as great speed
as could he counted on, and the horses
could not be worked for more than a
six-hour day.
Among other things which the sur
veying parties did during their work
In the far north was to carry a knowl
edge of the white man and his world
Into out-of-the-way places. They gave
the Indians their very first glimpse o
horses and steamboats In some cases.
Indians Were Alarmed.
When Indians at Rampart House
saw the party’s little steamers, without
tow-line or sail no.d belching smoke and
steam, push their way up rapids in the
Porcupine, they had the most exciting
moments of their lives. When the
horses were unloaded, and In celebra
tion of their freedom from cramped
quarters began running about and roll
ing on the ground, the Indians run for
shelter with feelings In their breasts,
no doubt, such as those tlie Aztecs had
when Cortez’s centaurs rode Into their
midst.
The American and Canadian pnrtles
' consisting of from JO to 50 men each,
did not operate In one group. A num
ber of small groups were organized,
each going Its own way. Tiie.se sub
parties consisted of six or seven men,
each In charge of a veteran surveyor.
In the determination of the principal
points on the meridian, however, a
party made up of both American and
Canadian surveyors worked; and their
Individual observations had to check
before the points were fixed as offi
cially correct.
Every day had to count In the rela
tively short summer season, especially
along the northern portion of the Unfe,
so that Sunduys and the Fourth of July
could not be observed as holidays. On
those days the working period was
I shortened by several hours, however,
as some concession to customs back
| home. An Interesting feature of the
; job was working under the midnight
sun. So Interested were the surveyors
of one party who happened to be on
the Arctic circle on June 22 one year,
that they Insisted on working all
, •‘night,”