CHAPTER I. A DARK DEED.

The ship Maxwell, Captain Roberts, homeward bound from Australia to New York, was bowling along upon her course under full sail.

It was a dark night, unrelieved save by the phosphor gleam of the seas around the vessel, and the light of the two lanterns hung up in the fore and mizzen rigging.

The Maxwell had one passenger—a gentleman named William Manton, who, having accumulated a fortune at Australia, was now returning to the United States, where his wife had died during his absence, but where he expected to find his daughter, Mary, and a young man of nineteen years old, living with an aunt in New York.

In an iron box the passenger carried his fortune—gold pieces, amounting in all to five hundred thousand dollars.

He kept the box locked up in his chest, which was provided with a patent lock, so arranged that it could not possibly be opened without a great deal of noise.

Occasionally Mr. Manton would go to this chest, and, taking out his money, look at it to see that all was safe. He was by no means either greedy or miserly; but he felt very anxious and careful about this money intended for his beloved child. That his death was not many years distant, he felt sure, as he had long suffered from an incurable complaint of the liver.

[Pg 10]

This might be detected now in his sallow skin, sunken cheeks, and hollow eyes, as in his room he bent over his box—counting the bright, yellow pieces of gold.

In every other respect, Mr. Manton was a fine looking old gentleman, being broad-shouldered and strong, with long arms, erect form, and piercing glance.

There was upon his face, at present, a look of intense satisfaction, as coin after coin, in hard, shining pieces passed through his hands.

"Ay," he muttered at length, "my girl will never be poor!"

As he spoke, a sudden chill passed through the old man's frame; a shudder as if an ice-bolt had come in contact with his body.

He could not divine the cause; but, had he taken pains to glance quickly behind him, up at a small opening in his door, he would have known that it was the magnetism of the pair of evil-looking eyes there which had chilled his blood.

The eyes belonged to a rough, square, dark-skinned face, the owner of which was the third mate, Mr. Brand—a man of Portuguese extraction, whom the captain had shipped at Australia, to take the place of his other third officer, lost overboard in a gale.

Brand was an excellent sailor, but a reckless, good-for-nothing fellow at heart; a cruel, bloody-thirsty wretch, who had committed almost every crime one can imagine, except murder!

Still it was evident the man had a conscience, as he would sometimes get to thinking of the evil course he had pursued, and resolve to reform.

Alas! for reformation! rum was his God, and in this he would soon drown all his better feelings, and keep getting worse and hardened until he grew to be a perfect devil!

Captain Roberts had known nothing of this when he shipped the third mate, who could play the hypocrite to perfection when he pleased. The fellow drank his rum[Pg 11] in the privacy of his own apartment, and took good care never to appear on deck intoxicated, for Roberts was a stern, resolute, temperate man, who would never have forgiven his second officer for being drunk on duty.

It was now Brand's watch below. In his apartment he had heard the click of Mr. Manton's chest-lock; a noise which had saluted his ears, since leaving Australia more than once. Determined to ascertain the cause, he had emerged from his room in his stocking feet, and made his way to Manton's door as shown.

As he watched the old man counting his money; as he saw the glitter of those bright pieces, his mouth fairly watered, and a fearful purpose began to gather strength at his heart.

Having seen Manton return the little box to his chest, the third mate stole back to his berth, and lay a long time awake, endeavoring to plan a scheme for obtaining the money.

"Wouldn't like to take the old gent's life," he muttered; "and won't—no I won't; for bad as Dick Brand is, he has never yet murdered."

The more he thought, however, the less fearful became the idea of murder.

The gold—the broad glittering pieces of bright gold, threw a glimmer over the dark suggestion creeping into and gaining force over his mind!

Clink! clink! clink!

He imagined he could still hear the noise of the pieces lightly striking against each other, as when the old man counted them!

The sweat came out upon his brow; he felt feverish and restless to commence the work now, to at once possess himself by a bold stroke, of the treasure!

There were no persons in the cabin but Mr. Manton, himself, and the steward, the captain, with the first and second officers being on deck, and not apt to come below until two bells—ten o'clock, which was yet an hour distant. The steward slept away off at the further end of[Pg 12] the cabin, and being a sound sleeper, there was no danger of his waking from any noise less than that of a thunderbolt.

Brand, however, to make sure, now rose, and going to the steward's door listened intently, when the heavy breathing of the man convinced him that his present slumber was no exception to the rule.

In the middle of the state-room the dark schemer paused, glancing up at the companionway. The spray occasionally entering this in drops, would give him an excuse for closing the slide, so that he could hear if any person should attempt to enter during the performance of his fearful work.

Then Brand asked himself what he should do after committing the deed.

Investigation would follow, and there were many ways in which he might be discovered.

"Curses upon it! I had not thought of that," muttered the wretch, fairly grinding his teeth.

He went back to his berth, not to sleep, but to endeavor to plan a safer scheme!

It seemed as if the evil one favored him!

At six bells—two hours after ten o'clock—while the captain and first mate slept profoundly in their respective apartments, adjoining the steward's, Brand heard a noise, and cautiously peering through his door saw Mr. Manton, half dressed, about to go on deck, as was often his custom, to take a mouthful of fresh air.

He locked his door carefully after him; then ascended the companion.

Brand waited a few minutes, then one moment exulting, and the next shuddering at the thought of the deed contemplated, he cautiously made his way on deck.

The rascal had carefully considered the purpose in view. He felt certain that no man aboard but himself, knew of the fortune carried by Mr. Manton in his chest. The passenger was not at all communicative, while the captain and his first and second officers were. Therefore,[Pg 13] had they known of the box of money, they would have talked enough about it for all hands to become in a short time, posted on the subject.

Brand's first step, on reaching the deck, was to ascertain the relative position of the officer of the watch, the passenger and the man at the wheel.

The latter, located near the steerage, was looking sharply at the compass, as it was his duty to do, while the officer of the watch had gone amidships, where he stood leaning over the rail, evidently in a reverie. As to the passenger, he had moved far off, and was leaning across the bulwarks astern, the better to get the benefit of the fresh breeze then blowing square into his face.

"Now, then," thought Brand, drawing from his breast pocket a small, sharp dirk.

Noiselessly as a snake, he stole behind the passenger, then, starting up and throwing a quick glance round him to make sure that everything was still favorable, he drew off to stab Mr. Manton in the back.

Chance willed that the latter should turn at this critical instant.

Involuntarily he seized the ruffian's wrist, and being a resolute man, grappled him by the throat with the other hand.

Fearful that the man would sing out, which he certainly would have done at once but for a cold lately contracted in the throat, Brand suddenly pressed this whole tremendous weight against the passenger, throwing him backward head over heels across the bulwarks into the sea.

A splash—a gurgling cry—a hand thrown up above the dark water!

Then no sound was to be heard save the ordinary noises of a vessel booming along with the wind and waves roaring, and yards, masts and timbers creaking.

[Pg 14]

CHAPTER II. THE BOX.

After committing this dark deed, Brand, crouching in the shadow of the bulwarks, waited to make sure that the splash had not been heard by any other than himself.

Assured of this in a few moments, the third officer crawled back to the companionway and descended as cautiously as he had come.

Entering the state room, he made his way to Manton's door, determined as soon as possible, to possess himself of the treasure.

Procuring a bunch of skeleton keys, which he always carried with him, he endeavored to unlock the door.

Vain the effort; not one of the keys would answer.

The rascal then drew forth his penknife, and with some trouble contrived at last to pick the lock.

Entering and carefully shutting the door, he advanced to the chest, which he soon opened with the key belonging to it, found hanging up near the head of the berth Manton had occupied.

He drew forth the box, his eyes snapping with greed, his fingers itching to handle the glittering contents. The box was heavy, being made of iron and rather large, measuring about a foot in breadth and length.

An exultant grin crossed the man's face, giving to it an expression perfectly hideous, as, carefully closing the chest and locking it, he made his way back to his own apartment with the treasure box.

Arrived there, he held the box up before him, and examined it on all sides, but could discover no way to open it.

[Pg 15]

"Ay, ay," he muttered, "I see how it is. The box has a secret spring, which I must find before I can get at the treasure. A blasted fine way of savin' money. I'd like to feast my eyes upon them shiners again, but guess I'll wait until I get housed before I do so, as one never knows who be a-watchin' him, and my bein' discovered a-counting these pieces, might lead to unpleasant questioning."

He deposited the box in his own chest, upon which he sat down, after locking it.

He had obtained what he coveted, but somehow it did not bring him the expected satisfaction.

The gurgling cry of Mr. Manton kept sounding in his ears with a pertinacity truly appalling! The weird eyes of the man, gleaming and rolling in his head, also haunted the fellow's mind!

He rose, sat down again—then rose a second time, and threw himself upon his berth, trying to sleep.

After awhile he fell into a feverish slumber, and dreamed he saw the drowned victim come up, looking white and cadaverous, with clothes and hair dripping, hanging suspended right over his head!

In his terror he uttered a hoarse shriek, which not only waked him, but also the captain, who came rushing to his door, asking him what was the matter:

"Nothing—a nightmare I s'pose!" answered Brand, with a forced laugh.

The captain, satisfied, returned to his berth and slept again.

Brand, however, could not sleep. He was on deck before morning, when, with an involuntary shudder, he glanced astern, through the flying rack and scud of a gale which was rising.

Far in the distance he then beheld a bright light—a red, lurid glare, apparently shooting up from the sea.

It was a volcano, which for years had not burned, but was breaking out afresh on one of the Esmedura Islands.

Brand thought it was a ship on fire.

[Pg 16]

"We'd better veer round, then," remarked the officer of the watch.

"Oh, no!" Brand exclaimed, involuntarily.

The vision of Manton's dead body, which might be discovered floating upon the water, rose before his mind.

The second officer informed the captain about the light, when, using his night-glass, the skipper soon ascertained and explained the cause of the fire.

Brand breathed a sigh of relief.

When morning came, Manton was missed at breakfast. Having always found him punctual, the captain was alarmed. He went to the room and opened the door when no answer was returned to his summons, to find the old man missing.

Search was made—of course in vain—Brand apparently the most zealous of all in his efforts to find the missing one.

"He's gone, shipmates, it's my opinion, where's neither weepin' nor whaling," said a voice behind Brand, while he was looking in the hold.

The third officer turned to behold Tom Turk, a queer old tar, with enormous head and body, and short, thick legs.

Brand looked at him, keenly.

"What did you say?" he inquired, sharply.

"It's plain English, ain't it?" said Turk, rolling his quid round and round: "there's neither weepin nor whalin' in t'other land. The old man to my thinkin', was a good sort o' chap what has gone, sir, where p'raps neither you nor I will go, sir, seein' as we've our bad p'ints!"

Brand eyed the speaker steadily, and was satisfied that he knew nothing of the dark deed committed.

Meantime the search was continued, until it was concluded that the old man, whose habit of rousing up at eight was well known, had fallen overboard.

Several months later the vessel arrived at New York Harbor.

Scarcely was she anchored when a boat containing, besides[Pg 17] the rowers, a female and a young man, was seen pulling towards her.

The boat was soon alongside, when the young man—a tall, fine looking fellow, sprang out to assist the lady at up the gangway. She was a beautiful girl, with brown hair flowing in curls over her shoulders, a white rose-tinted skin, large, intelligent blue eyes and a form full rounded grace.

The moment she reached the deck, she glanced eagerly round her.

"Where is he? Where is Mr. Manton, my father, sir?" she said, addressing the captain.

The latter's countenance fell; in a few words he explained.

It was a terrible shock to the girl. Pale as death she staggered, and would have fallen but for the support of her companion's arm.

When she could stand alone, he inquired all the particulars of the captain, who promptly gave what information he could.

"Are you certain he was lost?" inquired the young man; "was there no way in which he might have saved himself?"

"I fear not," was the reply. "We must have been two miles from land at the time."

"Papa was an excellent swimmer," faltered the young girl. "He might have reached the land."

The captain, however, shook his head, saying he felt quite certain that his passenger was not saved.

Further remarks were exchanged, when the captain added that the passenger's chest, unmolested, was in the cabin as it had been left.

At this, Brand, who stood not far off, turned aside his head and felt uneasy.

What more probable than that Manton had written to his daughter, telling her about the box with him. Just where he kept it, and how much it contained.

If that were so, however, it was evident that at present[Pg 18] all considerations were drowned in the grief and excitement the girl felt at the sudden news of her parent's loss.

With a mute but expressive look, she turned towards the young man, her companion, who at once helped her down the gangway, telling the captain that the chest would be sent for.

"Good riddance!" thought Brand; "I must get away from this craft as soon as I can."

Next day he applied for his discharge, which the captain granted. An hour later, Brand and the chest were lodged at a seaman's boarding house in —— street.

Carefully locking his door and pulling down the window curtains, the third officer drew the iron box from the chest. After a long search he found the secret spring, which proved to be one of the small brass nails with which the box was studded.

Trembling with greedy expectation, he pressed against it, when the lid flew open.

Then a strange cry burst from his lips.

The box was empty!

[Pg 19]

CHAPTER III.

For several moments the man continued staring at the empty box, wholly unable to account for the singular discovery.

Then he sat down and ruminated. No living soul aboard the vessel had known of his possessing the box, therefore he was certain that the money could not have been extracted after he obtained it.

The only inference was that the money was not in the box when he took it.

Where then was it?

Vainly the man puzzled his brains: he could arrive at no definite conclusion.

Weeks passed.

Manton's chest must by this time, have been received and opened by his daughter. Brand had seen several of the ship's officers, but it was evident they had not heard of Manton's daughter missing anything from the chest.

Brand, therefore, breathed easy on this score, believing that, after all, the passenger had not written a word to his daughter about the box.

Two weeks later, by recommendation of Captain Roberts, who had found Brand to be an excellent seaman, the latter obtained command of a ship called the Quadrant, bound to Australia and the East Indies.

While Brand was preparing his vessel for sea, he had a visit from the owner.

"Captain," said the latter, "you will cruise awhile off the islands, in the neighborhood of Australia, and visit some of them before going into Sydney."

"What for?" inquired Brand.

The order had really been an unpleasant one to him, as if brought afresh to his imagination, the drowned body[Pg 20] of his victim, Mr. Manton, floating about on the water.

"Because," answered the owner, "the daughter of that passenger aboard the Maxwell, Mr. Manton, cannot be persuaded that her father was really lost. She is anxious to investigate the matter; to search all the islands she can, especially that one upon which was seen the volcano!"

Objections rose to Brand's white lips; but he dared not give them utterance, fearful of exciting suspicion.

"The lady," continued the owner, "will be accompanied by a young man—her affianced, who has been in the United States navy, and is a good sailor, from whom, in case of emergency, you may derive assistance. He is one of my clerks; a worthy young man, whom I hope you will treat with all due courtesy."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Brand, who could be pleasant enough when he chose.

Next day he went about shipping his crew, among whom was old Tom Turk.

Brand admired the latter's skill in seamanship, and this was his only reason for taking him, as in every other respect he disliked him.

The vessel ready a fortnight later, got under weigh, and was soon plunging her bows into the dark waters of the Atlantic.

On the quarter deck, by the side of Mary Manton, stood Harry Granville, her lover, endeavoring to cheer her spirits, which had drooped ever since the fearful news of her father's disappearance from the Maxwell.

Brand, superintending the work aboard the vessel, watched the lovers askance. The presence of the daughter of the very man he had pushed overboard, made him feel uneasy.

Every time he encountered the great, earnest blue eyes, it seemed to him as if they could see, away down into his soul, the dark secret he intended to carry with him to his grave!

Favored by fair winds the vessel, in a few months arrived in the latitude where the tragedy had taken place.

[Pg 21]

"Here is where the passenger fell overboard!" said Brand, addressing Harry Grenville, one evening, just after sundown.

The young man went into the cabin, whence he soon reappeared with Mary, whose eyes were suffused with tears, while she gazed earnestly upon the water, as if there hoping to see the form of her parent reappear.

Brand, walking his quarter-deck, kept his eyes steadily averted from her face.

Gradually darkness stole round the vessel, when, far ahead, a bright, lurid light broke upon the vision of Mary Manton.

"What is that?" she inquired of her lover.

He informed her that it was a volcano.

"Then that is the volcanic island where we are to search," said Mary.

"Yes," answered Harry, "but you must not hope to discover anything. From this point no man could hardly hope to swim to that island."

Mary sighed heavily.

At the same moment, she noticed that her lover's head was inclined sideways.

She was then sensible of a distant humming, roaring noise, growing louder and louder!

"It is the volcano, is it not?" she inquired.