"Oh!" howled the spendthrift, and gave a jerk backward on the reins,
which brought his horse up on his hind legs. "How dare you! I'll--I'll
kill you for that!"

"Do you take it back or not?" went on Jack, raising the whip again.

Instead of replying St. John reached over to hit the youth with his own
whip. But Jack dodged, and then struck out a second time. The blow
landed upon St. John's hand, and he jerked back quickly. The movement
scared the horse, and the animal plunged so violently that the rider was
thrown from the saddle into some nearby bushes. Then the horse galloped
away, leaving St. John to his fate.




CHAPTER VII.

A SETBACK FOR ST. JOHN.


"Now see what you have done!" roared St. John, as soon as he could
scramble from the bushes.

His face was scratched in several places and his coat was torn at one
elbow.

"It was your fault as much as mine," retorted Jack.

"No such thing. You had no right to pitch into me."

"And you had no right to call me names."

"My horse has run away," stormed the young man.

"So I see."

"If he is lost or hurt you'll be responsible."

"He is running toward home. I reckon he'll be all right."

"What am I to do?"

"That's your lookout."

"Get down and let me ride your pony home."

"I will do no such thing!" cried Jack. The little steed was very dear to
him.

"Do you expect me to walk?"

"You can suit yourself about that, St. John. Certainly I shan't carry
you," and Jack began to move off.

"Stop! don't leave me like this."

"You are not much hurt. Do you want to continue the fight?"

"I don't calculate to fight a mere boy like you. Some day I'll give you
a good dressing down for your impudence."

"All right; when that time comes, I'll be ready for you," returned Jack
coolly, and without further words he rode away.

Standing in the middle of the road, St. John Ruthven shook his fist
after the youth.

"I hate you!" he muttered fiercely. "And I'll not allow you to come
between me and my aunt's property, remember that!" But the words did not
reach Jack, nor were they intended for his ears.

There was a spring of water not far away, and going to this St. John
washed his face and his hands. Then he combed his hair with a
pocket-comb he carried, and brushed his clothing as best he could. He
was more hurt mentally than physically, and inwardly boiled to get even
with our hero.

Left to himself, he hardly knew what to do. He was satisfied that his
horse would go home as Jack had said, but he was in no humor to follow
the animal.

"I've a good mind to call on Aunt Alice and tell her what a viper he
is," he said to himself. "Perhaps I can get her to think less of him
than she does--and that will be something gained."

He walked slowly toward the plantation. When he came within sight of the
garden he saw Marion in a summerhouse, arranging a bouquet of flowers
which she had just cut.

The sight of his cousin put his heart in a flutter and made him think of
the talk he had had with his mother. Why should he not propose to her at
once? The sooner the better, to his way of thinking. That Marion might
refuse him hardly entered his head. Was he not the best "catch" in that
neighborhood?

"How do you do, Marion?" he said, as he strode up to the summerhouse.

"Why, St. John, is that you?" returned the girl. "I did not see you
riding up."

"I came on foot," he went on, as he came in and threw himself on a
bench. "It's warm, too."

"It is warm. Shall I send for some refreshments?"

"No, don't bother just now, Marion. I came over to see you alone."

"Alone?" she said in some surprise.

"Yes, alone, Marion. I have something very important to say to you."

She did not answer, but turned away to fix the bouquet.

"Can you guess what I wish to say?" he went on awkwardly.

"I haven't the remotest idea, Cousin St. John."

"I want to tell you how much I love you, Cousin Marion."

"Oh!"

"Don't think that I speak from sudden impulse. I have loved you for
years, but I wished to wait until you were old enough to listen to me."

"And you think I am old enough now?" she said, with a faint smile.
"Mamma thinks me quite a girl still."

"You are old enough to marry, if you wish, Marion."

"Marry?" She laughed outright. "Oh, St. John, don't say that. Why, I
don't intend to marry in a long, long time--if at all."

His face fell, and he bit his lip. Certainly this was not the answer he
had expected.

"But I want you!" he burst out, still more awkwardly. "I want to--to
protect you from--er--from Jack."

"Protect me from Jack?"

"Yes, Marion. You know what he is, a mere nobody."

"Jack is my brother."

"He is not, and you know it."

"He is the same as if he were my brother, St. John."

"Again I say he is not. He is a mere upstart, and he will prove a snake
in the grass unless you watch him. Your mother made a big mistake when
she adopted him."

"There may be two opinions upon that point."

"He knows your mother is rich. Mark my word, he will do all he can,
sooner or later, to get her property away from her."

"I will not believe evil of Jack."

"You evidently think more of him than you do of me!" sneered the
spendthrift, seeing that he was making no headway in his suit.

"I do not deny that I think the world and all of Jack. He is my brother
in heart, if not in blood--and I will thank you to remember that after
this," went on Marion in a decided tone.

"You will learn of your mistake some time--perhaps when it is too late."

"Jack is true to the core, and as brave as he is true. Why, he would go
to the war if mamma would give her consent."

At this St. John Ruthven winced.

"Well--er--I would go myself if my mother did not need me at home," he
stammered. "She must have somebody to look after the plantation. We
can't trust the niggers."

"Many men have gone to the front and allowed their plantations to take
care of themselves. They place the honor of their glorious country over
everything else."

"Well, my mother will not allow me to go--she has positively forbidden
it," insisted St. John, anxious to clear his character.

This statement was untrue; he had never spoken to his mother on the
subject, thinking she might urge him to go to the front. His plea that
he must look after the plantation was entirely of his own making.

"Supposing we should lose in this struggle--what will become of your
plantation then?"

At this St. John grew pale.

"I--I hardly think we will lose," he stammered. "We have plenty of
soldiers."

"But not as many as the North has. General Lee could use fifty thousand
more men, if he could get them."

"Well, I shall go to the front when I am actually needed, Marion; you
can take my word on that. But won't you listen to what I have told you
about my feeling for you?"

"No, St. John; I am too young to fall in love with anybody. I shall at
least wait until this cruel war is over."

"But I can hope?"

She shook her head. Then she picked up her bouquet.

"Will you come up to the house with me?"

"Not now, Marion. Give my respects to my aunt and tell her I will call
in a day or two again. And, by the way, Marion, don't let her think hard
of me because of Jack. I desire only to see to it that the boy does not
do you mischief."

"As I said before, I will listen to nothing against dear Jack, so
there!" cried Marion, and stamping her foot, she hurried toward the
house.

St. John Ruthven watched her out of sight, then turned and stalked off
toward the roadway leading to his home.

"She evidently does not love me as I thought," he muttered to himself.
"And I made a mess of it by speaking ill of Jack. Confound the luck!
What had I best do now? I wish I could get that boy out of the way
altogether, I really do."




CHAPTER VIII.

THE HOME GUARDS OF OLDVILLE.


The week to follow the events recorded in the last chapter was a trying
one for the inhabitants of Oldville, as the district around the
Ruthvens' plantation was called.

The army of the North had pressed the army of the South back steadily
day after day, until the Confederates were encamped less than four miles
away from Jack's home. For two days the cannon-firing could be
distinctly heard, and the women folks were filled with dread, thinking
the invaders from the North were about to swoop down upon their homes
and pillage them.

"Oh, Jack! do you think they will come here?" was the question Marion
asked at least a dozen times.

"They had better not," was the sturdy reply. "If they do, they will find
that even a boy can fight."

"But you could do nothing against an army, Jack."

"Perhaps not. But I'll do what I can to protect you and mother."

"Old Ben told me that you and Darcy Gilbert were organizing a Home
Guard."

"Yes; we have organized a company of boys. We have twenty-three members,
and I am the captain," answered Jack, with just a bit of pride in his
tones.

"Then you are Captain Jack!" exclaimed Marion. "Let me congratulate you,
captain. But have you any weapons?"

"Yes. I have an old sword and also a pistol, and all of the others have
pistols or guns. I think, if we were put to it, we might do our enemy
some damage."

"No doubt, since I know you and Darcy can shoot pretty straight. You
ought to ask St. John to join the command."

"Not much, Marion! Don't you know that St. John is a coward at heart,
even if he is a man?"

"Yes, I know it. One of the colored help on his plantation told Old Ben
that the cannon-firing so close at hand made him so uneasy he couldn't
eat or sleep."

"Is it possible! Now the cannon-firing simply makes me crazy to be at
the front, to see what is going on, and to take part."

"Then you must be a born soldier, Jack." Marion heaved a sigh. "Oh, I
wish this war was over! Why must the men of the South and the North kill
each other?"

"The world has always had wars and always will, I reckon. Do you want to
come to town and see us drill?"

"Will it be safe?"

"I think so, Marion. I don't believe the enemy are coming here very
soon."

Soon after this Jack and Marion were on their way to Oldville, a sleepy
town containing two general stores, a tavern, and a blacksmith shop.

In front of the tavern was a large green, and here a number of boys were
playing various games.

"Hurrah, here comes Captain Jack!" was the cry, when our hero appeared.

"Are we to drill to-day?" questioned Darcy Gilbert, as he ran up and
nodded to Marion.

"If you will," said Jack. His new honors had not made him in the least
dictatorial.

"All right," returned Darcy.

He was first lieutenant of the company, which had styled itself the
Oldville Home Guard, and he quickly summoned the young soldiers
together.

All had uniforms, made of regular home suits with stripes of white sewed
down the trouser-legs and around the coat-sleeves. The boys with pistols
were placed in the front rank, those with guns in the second rank. One
lad had a drum and another a fife.

"Company, attention!" ordered Jack, coming to the front with drawn
sword, and the boys drew up in straight rows across the green. The drum
rattled, and presently quite a crowd of old men, women, and children
collected to see the drill.

"Carry--arms!" went on Jack, and the guns came to a carry, and likewise
the pistols. "Present--arms! Shoulder--arms! Forward--march!"

"Dum! dum! dum, dum, dum!" went the drummer, and off marched the company
to the end of the green.

"Right--wheel!" came the next command, and the boys wheeled with the
order of a veteran body, for each was enthusiastic to do his best.
"Forward!" and they marched on again, and so the marching kept up until
the square had been covered several times.

"Halt!" Thus the commanding went on. "Load! Take aim! Fire!"

And twenty-odd gun and pistol hammers came down with a sharp clicking,
for none of the weapons were loaded, the boys saving their powder and
ball until such time as they might actually be needed. A short parade
around the main streets followed, and then Jack dismissed the company.

"It was splendid!" cried Marion enthusiastically. "I declare, Jack, how
did you ever get them drilled so nicely?"

"Oh! the fellows take to it naturally. Besides, Darcy did as much as I
did."

"No, Jack is our chief drillmaster," put in Darcy. "He takes to
soldiering as a duck takes to a pond."

"It's wonderful. Still, I hope you never have to go to war," concluded
Marion.

"If we do, we'll try to give a good account of ourselves," said Darcy,
as Marion walked away.

"Indeed we will!" cried our hero.

Now she was in town Marion concluded to do some shopping, and
accordingly made her way to one of the general stores, a place kept by
Lemuel Blackwood, one of the oldest merchants in that part of the State.

Blackwood's store was usually crowded with goods of every description,
but the war had all but wrecked his trade, and his stock was scanty and
shop-worn.

"How do you do, Marion?" said he, when the girl entered. He had known
her from childhood.

"How do you do, Mr. Blackwood?" she returned.

"Pretty fairly, for an old man, Marion. That is, so far as my health
goes. Business is very poor, though."

"The war has taken the people's money."

"Yes, yes! It is awful! Sometimes I think it will never end."

"Do you think we will win, Mr. Blackwood?"

At this the old man shook his head slowly.

"I used to hope so, Marion. But now--the most of our best soldiers have
been shot down. The North can get new recruits, but we don't seem to
have many more men to go to the front."

"Have you any more calico like that which I got a few weeks ago?"

"No, I can't get a single piece, no matter how hard I try."

"What have you in plain dress goods?"

"Nothing but what I showed you before. I tried to get something new last
week, but the wholesale houses had nothing, and couldn't say when
anything new would come in. Their business has been wrecked, just as
mine has been. Two of the best houses I used to do business with are
bankrupt."

"Then show me what you have again, please. Mamma and I must have
something, even if it is out of date. We'll wear it for the honor of the
South."

At this old Mr. Blackwood smiled. "You are a loyal girl, Marion. I like
to see it in a person, especially in one who is young. It shows the
right training."

"But supposing I was a Northerner," said Marion, with a sly twinkle in
her eye.

"It would make no difference in my opinion."

"You believe people should be true to their convictions?"

"Yes, no matter what side they stand upon. We think we are right, and
are willing to fight for our opinions. They think they are right, and
they are willing to fight, too."

"But who is right?"

Mr. Blackwood shrugged his shoulders. "Let us trust that God will bring
this difficulty to a satisfactory conclusion. If we lose in this war, my
one hope is that the South will not lose everything--that the North will
be generous."

"But they say Grant is a stubborn general. That he will demand
everything of General Lee."

"I cannot believe it. I have a cousin who knew Grant, and he said Grant
was not so hard-hearted as painted."

"Some say the South, if defeated, will be held in virtual slavery by the
North."

"Yes, some hot-heads say everything. I had such a fellow in here
yesterday; a surgeon in our army, who gave his name as Dr. Mackey. He
was ranting around, declaring that, if we lost, the Northern soldiers
would march clear through to New Orleans and loot and burn every
village, town, and city, and that neither life nor property would be
safe. His talk was enough to scare a timid person most to death."

"A surgeon in our army," said Marion. She had been told by Jack of the
meeting on the bridge. "What kind of a looking man was he?"

As well as he could Mr. Blackwood described the individual.

"Did he seem to have a finger on one hand doubled up and stiff?"

"Yes. Do you know him, Marion?"

"I know of him. He met Jack on a bridge some days ago and ordered him
off as if Jack were a slave."

"He appeared to be as headstrong as he was unreasonable. I have seen him
around here several times, but I cannot make out what he is doing here.
He asked me about the wreck on Hemlock Bluff rocks."

"What!" and Marion showed her surprise.

"Yes. He said he had heard of the wreck and was curious to visit it."

"That was strange."

"I asked him why he wished to visit the wreck, but he did not answer the
question."

At this point some other customers came in and the conversation was
changed. Marion bought what she wanted and went out, and presently
joined Jack on the way home.

"It was odd that surgeon should want to visit the wreck," was our hero's
comment, after he had heard what the girl had to say. "I wonder if he
knows anything of the ship and her passengers? If he does, I would like
to interview him, uncivil as he is."




CHAPTER IX.

DR. MACKEY INVESTIGATES.


A few days later Old Ben was just preparing to go out in his boat when a
visitor appeared at the boathouse. The man was clad in the faded uniform
of a Confederate surgeon, and proved to be Dr. Mackey.

"Good-mornin', sah," said Old Ben politely, as the doctor leaped from
the saddle and came forward.

"Good-morning," returned the surgeon shortly. "Can you supply me with a
glass of good drinking water? I left my flask at camp, and I am dry."

"We has de best ob watah heah, sah," returned Old Ben, and proceeded to
obtain a goblet. "Does yo' belong to de army?"

"Yes, I am a surgeon attached to the Fifth Virginia regiment." The
visitor gazed around him curiously. "Is this your boathouse?"

"Kind o', sah. It belongs to de Ruthven plantation. But when my ole
massa--Heaben bless his spirit--sot me free, he gib me de right to use
de boathouse so long as I pleased. I lives in yonder cabin on de bluff."

"Ah! then you were one of Mr. Ruthven's slaves?"

"Colonel Ruthven, sah," said the colored man, with emphasis on the
military title.

"He is dead?"

"Yes, sah; killed at de bloody battle ob Gettysburg. He was leadin' a
charge when a bullet struck him in de head."

"Too bad, truly. Did he leave much of a family?"

"A widow, sah, an' two chillen, a boy an' a girl."

"I see." The doctor drank the water thoughtfully. "Did--er--I mean, I
think I have seen the two young people. They don't seem to resemble each
other very much."

"Well, you see, da aint persackly brother an' sister."

"No?" and the surgeon raised his heavy eyebrows as if in surprise.

"No, sah. Massah Jack is only de 'dopted son ob de late colonel."

"Ah, is that really so? A--er--nephew, perhaps?"

"No, he aint no kin to de Ruthvens. He was washed ashoah from a wrack
ten or 'leben years ago. I wouldn't tell dis, only it has become public
property durin' de las' two weeks."

Dr. Mackey started back. "Ha! I have found the boy at last!" he muttered
to himself, as he began to walk the floor.

"What did you say, sah?"

"It's quite like a romance, my man. I should like to hear more of the
boy's story."

"Dere aint much to tell, massah. It blowed great guns durin' dat storm.
De passengers an' crew was washed ashoah from de wrack, but de only ones
wot came to de beach alive was Massah Jack an' his poor dear mother."

"And the mother----" The doctor paused.

"She only libed fo' two days. She died up to de house, leabin' de boy to
Mrs. Ruthven. De missus promised to look after de boy as her own--an'
she has gone dun it, too, sah."

"Then Mrs. Ruthven doesn't know whose son he really is?"

"No, sah. De boy's mammy couldn't tell nuffin, she was so much hurt."

"But what of the boy's father?"

"He was drowned wid de rest ob de passengers."

"Hard luck--for the boy." The surgeon continued to pace the floor.

"By the way, what is your name?" he asked presently.

"Ben, sah."

"There is a dollar for you."

"T'ank yo', massah; you is a real gen'man," and Ben's face relaxed into
a broad smile.

"You were going out in your boat, I believe."

"Yes, massah. But if I kin do anyt'ing fo' yo'----"

"What of this wreck? Is it the same that one can see from the bluff?"

"Yes, massah, de werry same."

"It's remarkable that it should survive so long."

"Well, yo' see, sah, de rocks am werry high, so de most ob de storms
don't git no chance at de wrack. Dat storm wot put de boat up dar was de
mos' powerful dat I eber seen in all my born days."

"Is it possible to board the wreck now?"

"Oh, yes, sah! I was ober dar only a few days ago. De ship was struck by
lightning in dat las' storm, but de rain put out de fiah."

"I would like to visit the wreck. I have some time to spare to-day, and
I am curious to see how such a big vessel looks when cast up high and
dry on the rocks."

"I can take yo' ober, sah."

"Very well; do so, and I'll give you another dollar."

"I'll be ready in a minute, as soon as I gits my fishing tackle an' bait
out of de boat, sah."

Ben hurried to his craft. As he was lifting his things out he saw a man
strolling near. The individual proved to be St. John Ruthven, who had
come in that direction in hope of seeing Marion alone.

"Hullo, Ben!" cried St. John. "See anything of Marion to-day?"

"She dun went out in a boat, sah."

"With Jack?"

"Yes, sah."

"What, after that experience in the storm?"

"Yes, sah."

"I should think they would be afraid."

"Da aint so afraid as some folks is, Massah St. John."

"Do you mean that as an insult to me, you good-for-nothing nigger?"

"No, sah. I mean Miss Marion an' Massah Jack are wery stout-hearted."

"My aunt is foolish to let Marion go out with that boy. Some day Marion
will be drowned."

"Jack knows wot he is doin', I rackon, sah."

"You don't know him. He is thoroughly reckless. I presume as a nobody
his life isn't worth much, but----"

"I rackon his life is as sweet to him as yours is to yo', Massah St.
John."

"Can you take me out in a boat after them?"

"Sorry, sah, but I'se gwine to take dis gen'man out, sah."

St. John turned and saw Dr. Mackey standing near, the surgeon having
come from the boathouse to listen in silence to the conversation which
was taking place.

He had met the doctor at the Oldville tavern the evening before, and
bowed stiffly.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Ruthven," said the doctor; "but I am
curious to visit the old wreck on Hemlock Bluff rocks. Perhaps this man
has another boat----"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Dr. Mackey," answered St. John.

"You are evidently a cousin to Miss Marion Ruthven."

"I am."

"And a cousin to the lad named Jack."

"He is no cousin of mine--even though my aunt has foolishly treated him
as her son."

"Why foolishly?"

"He is a waif of the sea--cast up from that wreck; yet my aunt presents
him to the world as a Ruthven--when he may be of very low birth."

"Evidently you are proud of your name."

"I am proud, sir, for there is no family in South Carolina which bears a
better name. We are descended from St. George Ruthven, one of the
knights of Queen Elizabeth's reign."

"I congratulate you, sir, and I now understand how this matter grates
upon you. But permit me to state, the boy may prove to be of as high
birth as yourself."

"What, Jack? Never!"

"Do not say that. Strange things have happened in this world."

"But he looks as if he came of low birth," responded St. John haughtily.

"There I must disagree with you, Mr. Ruthven."

"Dat's de talk!" muttered Old Ben, as he eyed St. John darkly. "Massah
Jack's as good as dat coward any day!"

"As you please, doctor; but I shall hold to my opinion."

Dr. Mackey shrugged his shoulders.

"You have that right. Come, Ben, we will be on the way. Mr. Ruthven,
allow me to bid you good-day," and the doctor bowed stiffly.

"Good-day," was the curt response.

Soon the surgeon and Old Ben were in the boat, and the negro was rowing
swiftly in the direction of the wreck. St. John walked up the shore, but
presently turned to view the doctor from a distance.

"He talks as if he knew a thing or two," muttered the spendthrift to
himself. "Can it be possible that he knows something of the past, and is
going out to the wreck for a purpose?"




CHAPTER X.

THE PAPERS ON THE WRECK.


As the waters of the bay were quiet, it did not take Ben long to row Dr.
Mackey over to the wreck on the rocks.

"Be careful how you steps out, sah," said the colored man. "De rocks am
slippery, an' you kin twist an ankle widout half tryin', sah."

"I will be careful, Ben. So this is the wreck?"

"Yes, sah."

"I presume all that was movable in the ship has been carried off?"

"Long ago, sah."

"But the inside of the ship itself was not torn out?"

"No, sah. De folks around yeah is too afraid ob ghosteses fo' dat."

"Ah, yes! so I heard--at least, I would suppose so," replied the doctor,
in some confusion. "By the way, you need not remain here. I will visit
the wreck alone. You can come back in an hour or so."

"Wery well, massah."

"But don't forget to come back. I don't want to be left here all night."

"Don't worry, sah; I'll be back fo' dat dollah, sah," and Ben grinned.

"Oh, yes! I forgot about the dollar. Well, you shall have it when you
take me back to shore."

The doctor walked slowly toward the wreck, glancing back several times
to see if Old Ben was following him.

The colored man rowed away in a thoughtful mood.

"Somet'ing is on dat man's mind, suah!" he muttered to himself. "He's
gwine ter do somet'ing."

With difficulty the surgeon climbed up to the deck of the wreck. A
desolate spectacle presented itself. Everything was charred by the fire.

"Truly a nice place to come to," said the man to himself. "Now,
supposing this thing turns out a wild-goose chase, after all? Let me
see, the stateroom was No. 15. I wonder if I can still locate it?"

With caution he descended the companion way and entered the main cabin
of the stranded vessel. Here he drew from his pocket a candle and lit
it.

He walked slowly toward the side of the cabin until he reached a
stateroom bearing the number 7 upon the door.

"Seven," he murmured. "And the second from this is eleven. That shows
the numbers on this side are all odd. The next must be thirteen, and the
next fifteen."

He held the candle to the door, but the number plate was gone. Without
hesitation he pushed upon the door, which was already partly open. It
fell back, exposing the interior of the stateroom, now bare of all
things movable, and covered with dust and cobwebs.

"A dirty job this," he murmured, and set the candle down upon a beam
running along the side of a wall. He gazed around the stateroom
curiously, as if hardly knowing what to do next.

"The little closet was set in the wall at the foot of the bed. Now which
was the foot of the bed? I'll try both ends." He did so, tapping on the
woodwork with his knuckles. Presently he found a hole where there had
once been a small knob.

"The closet, sure enough!" he cried, and his face took on a new
interest. "Now where is that door-knob?"

He hunted on the floor, but no knob came to view. But a bent nail was
handy, and this he inserted into the hole sideways, and pulled with all
his force. There was a slight creak, and a small door came open,
revealing a dark closet about a foot square and equally deep.

If the room was dirty the closet was more so, for a crack at the top had
let in both dirt and water, and at first he could see nothing but a
solid cake of dirt before him. Digging into this, he presently uncovered
a heavy tin box, painted black.

"Eureka! the box at last!" he cried, in a tone full of pleasure. "I am
the lucky one, after all!"

He brought the tin box forth and brushed it off. There was a little
padlock in front, and this was locked. Bringing a bunch of keys from his
pocket, he began to try them, one after another. At last he found one to
fit, and opened the box.

"The papers at last!" he murmured, and his eyes gleamed with
expectation. "Let me see what there is." He turned them over. "The
marriage certificate for one, and letters from his father about that
property. And other letters from her folks--all here, and just what I
wanted." He shoved the documents back into the box. "The fortune is
mine!"

Returning to the closet he cleaned it out thoroughly, to learn if it
contained anything more of value. But there was nothing more there, and
presently he blew out the candle, hid the tin box under his coat, and
returned to the deck.

Ben was rowing not far away and saw the doctor wave his hand.

"Is yo' ready, massah?" he called out.

"Yes, Ben."

The colored man said no more, but rowed inshore, and in the meantime the
doctor hurried down to meet him.

"Did you find any gold, massah?" asked the colored man, his white teeth
gleaming.

"Gold! Why, you foolish nigger, what chance is there of finding gold on
a wreck over ten years old? The best thing you can do is to break the
boat to pieces and take the wood ashore for fuel."

"But de ghosteses, massah! Besides, Mrs. Ruthven wouldn't let us touch
dat wrack nohow."

"On account of the boy, I suppose."

"Yes, massah."

"To tell the truth, my man, I have now as much interest in that ship as
has that boy or Mrs. Ruthven. It brings back an exciting passage in my
life. My visit to the wreck was made to satisfy me concerning several
important questions. I was one of the passengers on that ill-fated
ship!"

"Golly, massah, yo' don't really mean dat?" And Old Ben's eyes opened
widely.

"Yes, I do. I suspected it before; now I am dead certain of it."

At this declaration Old Ben grew quite excited.

"And did yo' know Massah Jack's fadder, sah?"

"Yes, my man, I knew him very well," and there was a significant smile
on the doctor's face as he spoke.

"And was he a gen'man, sah? St. John Ruthven t'inks he was common white
trash."

"He was a gentleman of high family--the son of an English nobleman,
although born in this country."

"An' Jack's mudder, sah?"

"Was an American lady--a lady belonging to one of the first families of
Massachusetts."

"Golly, a Northerner!" and Ben's face became a study.

"Yes."

"Yo' must visit de house, sah, and tell Mrs. Ruthven 'bout dis. She will
want to heah de partic'lars wery much, sah."

"Yes, I will visit the Ruthven home," replied the doctor.

"Yo' know de way, sah?"

"I believe I do."

"I can show yo' de way, an' will do it willingly. So you knew Jack's
fadder an' mudder! Golly, but aint dat strange--after all dese yeahs,
too! Jack will want to see yo', ob course."

"And I shall want to see Jack," replied the medical man.

"Jack's a fine lad, sah."

"I am glad to hear it." But, as he spoke, the face of Dr. Mackey became
a study.

"Yes, sah; aint no bettah boy in all dese parts, sah."

While talking Ben was rowing steadily, and it was not long before the
pair reached shore.

Then the boat was made fast, the oars put away, and the doctor and the
colored man started for the Ruthven mansion.




CHAPTER XI.

MRS. RUTHVEN SPEAKS HER MIND.


Leaving the shore of the bay, St. John Ruthven walked slowly toward the
home of his aunt.

It irritated him greatly to think that his cousin preferred the society
of Jack to his own.

"I must speak to Aunt Alice about this," he said to himself. "It is
getting worse and worse."

He found his aunt sitting in the garden reading. She looked up in
surprise at his approach.

"Aunt Alice, can you spare me a few minutes?" he said, after the usual
greeting.

"Surely, St. John. What is it that you wish?"

"I wish to speak to you about Marion."

"About Marion?" Mrs. Ruthven looked somewhat surprised.

"Yes. I saw her out again in a boat with that boy."

"That boy? Do you mean Jack?"

"Yes. I wonder you trust her to his care--after what happened at the
wreck."

"Why should I not? Jack understands how to manage a boat. Marion is safe
with her brother."

"But he is not her brother," cried St. John.

"Not in blood, perhaps, but in affection. They have been brought up
together as children of one family."

"My dear Aunt Alice, do you think you have done wisely in encouraging
this intimacy?" he said earnestly.

"What can you mean?" she demanded. "Jack is fourteen years old and
Marion is eighteen."

"Of course. But you know nothing of the boy's parentage. He is an
unknown waif, cast upon the shore in his infancy, very possibly of a low
family."

"No, you are wrong there. Remember, I saw his mother. Everything
indicated her to be a lady. The child's clothing was of fine texture.
But even if it were otherwise, he has endeared himself to me by his
noble qualities. I regard him as a son."

St. John shrugged his shoulders. "You look upon him with the eyes of
affection. To me he seems----"

"Well?"

"A commonplace boy,--a mechanic's child, very possibly,--who is quite
out of place among the Ruthvens."

At this Mrs. Ruthven grew indignant.

"You are prejudiced!" she cried. "I will not discuss the matter farther
with you. I wish no one to speak to me against Jack. He is as dear to me
as Marion herself."

The young man drew a deep breath. "I am silenced, Aunt Alice. But I wish
to speak to you about Marion. She is no longer a child, but a young
lady."

"Yes, she is now eighteen," answered Mrs. Ruthven slowly. "But to me she
seems a child still."

"Well--er--at what age did you marry, aunt?"

"At eighteen."

"Then, Aunt Alice, you cannot be surprised if I have thought of Marion
as my future wife. I love her warmly and sincerely."

At this abrupt declaration Mrs. Ruthven was considerably surprised.

"Why, St. John, do you wish to marry that child?" she exclaimed.

"Why not? She is eighteen."

"Yes, but I had never thought of her as old enough to be married. Have
you spoken to her?"

"Yes," he returned slowly, and with a cloud on his face.

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing--that is, she was taken by surprise and did not wish to discuss
the matter at present."

Mrs. Ruthven drew a breath of relief. "She was sensible. Have you any
reason to think that she loves you?"

"I think she will soon. I am not conceited, Aunt Alice, but I think I
have a good appearance and--I am a Ruthven."

"You are much older than she, St. John."

"I am, but a man of my age is still a young man."

"I should not object if she loved you, but I have never seen any
indications of it."

"Will you let her know that you favor my suit?"

At this Mrs. Ruthven shrugged her shoulders.

"But I am not sure that I do," she returned slowly.

"Have you heard anything to my discredit?" he demanded stiffly.

"No, no, St. John; but don't be precipitate. Let the matter rest for the
present."

"Well, if you insist upon it, Aunt Alice," he said, his face falling.

"It seems to me best."

"But still, Aunt Alice, if Marion allows her affections to drift in
another direction----"

"I do not think she will, for the present. She is more interested in the
war than in anything else. Why, if I would allow it, she would go off
and offer her services as a nurse."

"Don't let her go, aunt--I beg of you."

Mrs. Ruthven looked at her nephew curiously.

"What makes you so afraid of this war, St. John?"

"Afraid? I am not afraid exactly," he stammered. "I was thinking of dear
Marion. It would be horrible for her to put up with the hardships, and
such sights!"

"But somebody must bear such sights and sounds. War is war, and our
beloved country must be sustained, even in her darkest hour."

He trembled and turned pale, but quickly recovered.

"What you say is true, Aunt Alice. I have wanted to go to the front, but
my mother positively refuses her permission. She is in mortal terror
that the Yankees will come to our plantation and loot the place in my
absence."

"Do you think you can keep them from coming?"

"No, but I can--er--I can perhaps protect my mother."

"If you went off, she could come over here and remain with me."

"She wishes to remain at home. The old place is very dear to her. It
would break her heart to have the enemy destroy it."

"I should not wish our place destroyed. Yet the only way to keep the
enemy back is to go to the front and fight them."

"Well--I presume you are right, and I shall go some time--when I can win
my mother over," said St. John lamely.

He wanted to speak of Marion again, but, on looking across the garden,
saw his cousin and Jack approaching. Soon the pair came up and Marion
greeted St. John with a slight bow.

"We have been out rowing, mother," said Jack, as he came up and kissed
Mrs. Ruthven. "It was lovely on the bay."

"Did you go far?"

"We went over to Hoskin's beach. Marion rowed part of the way."

"I hope you had a nice time," said St. John stiffly, turning to Marion.

"We had a lovely time," answered the girl. "Jack is the best rower
around here."

"Humph! Why, he's only a boy!" sneered the spendthrift.

"Yes, I am only a boy, St. John, but I reckon I can row as good as you,"
replied our hero warmly. He had not forgotten the encounter on the road.

"Do you, indeed?"

"Yes, I do. Some day we can try a race. I'll give you choice of boats
and beat you."

At this Marion set up a merry laugh.

"I believe Jack can beat you at rowing, St. John," she said.

"I never race with boys," answered the spendthrift, more stiffly than
ever.

"I'll race you to-day," went on Jack. "And I've rowed three or four
miles already."

"Oh, Jack! you are too tired and the sun is too strong," remonstrated
Mrs. Ruthven, although inwardly pleased to see the lad stand up for
himself.

"I said I never raced with boys," said St. John.

"I would like to see a race," came from Marion. "I dare you to row Jack,
St. John."

"Let us make it to the rocks and back," said Jack. "And you can have any
of the boats you please. I dare you to do it," and he looked at St. John
defiantly.

"St. John may be tired. Perhaps he has been working," suggested Mrs.
Ruthven, although she knew better.

"No, he has been walking and resting along shore," said Marion. "We saw
him from our boat."

"I'll give you another advantage, besides choice of boats," said Jack,
bound that St. John should not back out. "I'll carry Marion as extra
weight."

"Oh, that wouldn't be fair!" cried the girl. "Let St. John carry mamma."

"No, I must decline to go," said Mrs. Ruthven.

"I'll take Marion, and St. John need carry only himself," said our hero.
"I am certain I can beat him. I dare him to take me up."

There seemed no help for it, so St. John gave in, and soon the three
were on the way to Old Ben's boathouse.




CHAPTER XII.

THE BOAT RACE ON THE BAY.


"I think this is a very foolish proceeding," observed St. John as they
walked along.

"I think it's going to be lots of fun," replied Marion. "The one who
wins shall receive a lovely bunch of roses from me."

"Then I'll win," said the spendthrift, and bestowed a meaning smile upon
her, which instantly made her turn her head.

They used a short cut to the beach, consequently they did not meet Old
Ben and Dr. Mackey.

When the boathouse was gained they went to inspect the four boats lying
there.

St. John knew the boats well, for he was by no means an unskilled rower.

He picked out the lightest of the craft, one which was long and narrow,
and also took the best pair of oars.

Marion was going to remonstrate, but Jack silenced her.

"But, Jack, if you have a poor boat, and carry me, too----" she began,
in a whisper.

"I'll beat him, anyway," replied our hero. "I know I can do it."

Soon they had the boats out.

Marion half expected St. John to invite her to enter his craft, but in
this she was mistaken. The spendthrift was afraid that the extra weight
would prove fatal to his success. Yet it angered him to have his cousin
go off with Jack.

"Marion, you ought to remain on shore," he said. "The race ought to be
rowed with both boats empty."

"Well, if you think best----" she began.

"No, Marion, you are to go with me," put in Jack hastily. "I said I
would row with you in my boat, and I will."

"But I am quite a weight----"

"Never mind; jump in."

As there seemed no help for it, Marion entered Jack's boat and our hero
pulled a rod away from the shore.

"Now where is the race to be?" asked St. John, as he followed Jack's
example and pulled off his coat.

"Let Marion decide that," said the youth promptly.

"Then make it to the Sister Rocks," said Marion. "Each boat must go
directly around the rocks."

"That suits me," said Jack.

"It's a good mile and a half," grumbled St. John. He had no desire to
exert himself in that warm sun.

"It's no farther for you than for Jack," answered the girl. "Come, are
you ready?"

There was a pause, and then St. John said that he was.

"And you, Jack?"

"All ready, Marion."

"Then go!" cried the girl.

The four oars dropped into the water and off went the two boats, side by
side.

St. John, eager to win for the sake of finding favor in Marion's eyes,
exerted himself to the utmost, and soon forged ahead.

"Oh, Jack! he is going to beat," cried the girl, in disappointment. "I
am too much of a load for you."

"The race has but started," he replied. "Wait until we turn the rocks
and then see who is ahead."

On and on went the two boats, St. John pulling strongly, but somewhat
wildly--a pace he could not keep up. Jack rowed strongly, too, but kept
himself somewhat in reserve.

When half the distance to the Sister Rocks was covered St. John was four
boat-lengths ahead.

"Ha! what did I tell you!" he cried. "I will beat you, and beat you
badly, too!"

"'He laughs best who laughs last,'" quoted Jack. "Marion, sit a little
more to the left, please. There, that's it--now we'll go along
straighter."

"I wish I could help row," she said. "But that wouldn't be fair. But,
oh, Jack! you must beat him!"

Slowly, but surely, they approached the Sister Rocks. Being ahead, St.
John turned in, to take the shortest cut around the turning-stake, if
such the rocks may be called.

"Too bad, Jack, you will have to go outside," cried Marion.

"Never mind, I'll beat him, anyway," answered our hero, and now let
himself out.

The added strength to his stroke soon told, and before long he began to
crawl close to St. John's craft. Then he overlapped his opponent and
forged ahead.

"Hurrah! you are ahead!" cried Marion excitedly, but in a voice her
cousin might not hear. "Keep up, Jack; you are doing wonderfully well."

Our hero did keep up, and when he reached the first of the Sister Rocks
he was more than two boat-lengths ahead.

He knew the rocks well, and glided around them skillfully, with just
enough water between the rocks and the boat to make the turning a safe
one.

"Now for the home stretch!" he murmured, and began to pull as never
before. He felt certain he could defeat St. John, but he wished to make
the defeat as large as possible. "He'll find even a nobody can row," he
told himself, with grim satisfaction.

To have Jack go ahead of him drove St. John frantic, and as he drew
closer to the rocks he became wildly excited.

"He must not win this race--he a mere nobody," he muttered. "What will
Marion think if he wins?"

The thought was maddening, and he pulled desperately, first on one oar
and then on the other. Around the rocks the waters ran swiftly, and
before he knew it there came a crash and his craft was stove in and
upset. He clutched at the gunwale of the boat, but missed it, and
plunged headlong into the bay.

When the mishap occurred Jack was paying sole attention to the work cut
out for him, consequently he did not notice what was taking place. Nor
did Marion see the disaster until several seconds later.

"St. John will----" began the girl, and then turned deadly pale. "Oh,
Jack!" she screamed.

"What's the matter?" he cried, and stopped rowing instantly.

"Look! look! St. John's boat has gone on the rocks and he is overboard!"
she gasped.

"How foolish for him to row so close," was Jack's comment. And then he
added, in something like disgust, "I reckon the race is off now."

"We must go back for him," went on Marion. "See, he has disappeared."

The girl was right, the weight of St. John's clothing had carried him
beneath the surface. The swiftly running water had likewise caught him,
and when he came up it was at a point fifty feet away from the nearest
rock.

"He will be drowned, Jack!"

"Help! help!" came in a faint cry from the spendthrift. "Help me, Jack!
Don't leave me to perish!"

"Keep up, I'm coming!" answered Jack readily, and as quickly as he could
he turned his boat and pulled in the direction where St. John had again
sunk from sight.

The spendthrift was but an indifferent swimmer, and the weight of his
clothing was much against him. Moreover, he was scared to death, and
threw his arms around wildly instead of doing his best to save himself.

He had gone down once, and now, as Jack's boat came closer, he went down
a second time.

"Oh, Jack! he will surely be drowned!" gasped Marion, and she placed her
hands over her eyes to keep out the awful sight.

"Look to the boat, I am going after him!" cried our hero suddenly, and
leaping to the bow, he dove into the bay after the sinking young man.

  [Illustration: LEAPING TO THE BOW, HE DOVE INTO THE BAY AFTER THE
  SINKING YOUNG MAN.--_Page 92._]

He had been afraid of bringing the craft closer and hitting St. John.
Now he struck out boldly, and then made a second dive, coming up close
to the spendthrift's side.

St. John wished to cry out, but the words would not come. Espying Jack,
he grabbed for the lad and clutched him around the throat.

"Don't hold on so tight!" cried Jack in alarm. "I will save you. Take
hold of my shoulder."

But St. John was too excited to be reasoned with, and instead of letting
up, he clung closer than ever, so that soon both were in peril of going
down.

"Let up, I say!" repeated Jack, and then, drawing up one knee, he
literally forced the young man from him. Then, as St. John turned partly
around, he caught him under the arms and began to tread water.

By this time Marion was at the oars, her temporary fear vanishing with
the thought that not only St. John, but also Jack, was in peril. With
caution she brought the rowboat closer.

"Catch hold there," said Jack, and seeing the boat, St. John made a wild
clutch for the gunwale, nearly upsetting the craft.

"Don't--you'll have me in the water next!" screamed Marion. Then Jack
steadied the boat, and St. John scrambled in over the stern, to fall on
the bottom all but exhausted, and so frightened that he could not utter
a word. Jack followed on board.

"Oh, St. John, what a narrow escape!" gasped Marion, after Jack was
safe. "I thought you would surely be drowned!"

For the moment St. John did not speak. He sat up, panting heavily.

"The race is off," said Jack. "Shall I go after your boat, St. John?"

"I don't care," growled the spendthrift, at last. "Where is she?"

"Caught between the rocks."

"Let Old Ben get the boat," put in Marion. "Both of you had better get
home with your wet clothing."

"I'm all right," answered the spendthrift coolly.

"St. John, Jack saved your life."

"Oh, I would have been all right--although, to be sure, my boat was
wrecked."

"Why, what would you have done?" asked Marion, in astonishment.

"I would have swam to shore, or else crawled on the rocks and signaled
Old Ben to come out after me," answered St. John.

He never thought to thank Jack, and this made Marion very indignant.

"Jack did a great deal for you, St. John," she exclaimed. "And he won
the race, too," she added, and would say no more.

Without loss of time Jack rowed the boat back to the landing and St.
John leaped out. He wished to assist his cousin, but she gave her hand
to Jack. Then the three walked toward the plantation in almost utter
silence.




CHAPTER XIII.

DR. MACKEY TELLS HIS STORY.


Left to herself, Mrs. Ruthven grew restless and began to walk around the
garden, examining the flower beds and the shrubbery.

She did not like what St. John had had to say concerning Marion. While
she did not exactly fear the young man, yet she had heard several
reports which were not to his credit.

"They say he gambles on horse races," she thought. "And I have heard
that the plantation is heavily mortgaged. Perhaps he wishes to marry
Marion only for the money she may bring him. And then it is not right
for him to remain around here when other men are at the front, serving
their country's flag."

She remained in the garden for some time, and was on the point of moving
for the house when she saw Old Ben approaching with Dr. Mackey.

"A stranger--and dressed in the uniform of a Confederate," she said,
half aloud. "What can he wish here?"

"Good-afternoon, missus," said Old Ben, removing his hat. "Here am a
gen'man as wishes to see yo'," and he bowed low.

"To see me?" said Mrs. Ruthven.

"Yes, madam," replied the doctor. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am
Dr. Mackey, a surgeon attached to the Fifth Virginia regiment," and he
bowed gravely.

"I am happy to make the acquaintance of an officer in our army, sir,"
replied Mrs. Ruthven, and held out her hand.

"I understand the late Colonel Ruthven was also of our army, and died at
a gallant charge on the field of Gettysburg," continued the doctor, as
he shook hands.

"You have been correctly informed, doctor."

"De doctor brings most important information, missus," put in old Ben,
who was almost exploding to tell what he knew.

"Is that so?" cried Mrs. Ruthven. "What is it?"

"I came to speak to you about yonder wreck on Hemlock Bluff rocks," said
the surgeon. "The sight of that wreck has taken me back to the affairs
of about eleven years ago."

"So you were--you knew of it at that time, sir?"

"Yes, I was one of the passengers on the ship, madam."

"A passenger! I thought all of the passengers were drowned,--I mean all
but those who came ashore here."

"I was not drowned. I was swept overboard before our ship came into the
bay, and clung to a spar for hours, until the storm abated. Then a ship
bound for Cuba came along and took me on board and carried me to Havana.
The shock and the exposure were too much for me, and when I recovered
physically the authorities at the hospital adjudged me insane, and I was
placed in an asylum for years. Slowly my reason returned to me, and at
last I left the island of Cuba and came to the Southern States. This was
shortly after the war had broken out, and, knowing nothing else to do, I
offered my services to General Lee, and was accepted and placed in the
hospital corps."