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 University of Illinois Library 
 
 AUG( 
 
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 8 1991 
 
 L161 — O1096
 
 THE HISTORY 
 
 AN ADVENTURER IN NEW GUINEA. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON 
 
 PRINTED BY SP0TTI6W00DE AKD CO. 
 
 SEW-STREET BQUARE
 
 ANDKEW DEVEREL 
 
 THE HISTORY OF 
 
 AN ADVENTURER IN NEW GUINEA. 
 
 CHARLES BEACH. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BEXTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1863.
 
 8^3 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The author is an entirely unlearned man, 
 unaccustomed to literature, but he lias actually 
 been in all the scenes he describes, and has 
 taken part in the adventures. If he can excite 
 the curiosity and call the attention of the com- 
 mercial world to the riches and unexplored 
 resources of New Guinea, he will have con- 
 ferred a benefit. That beautiful country offers 
 a virgin field of enterprise which would well 
 repay the dangers and difficulties of explora- 
 tion. 
 
 May 11, 1863. 
 
 TOL, I. 
 5J
 
 A.^^^^ yiOi^^ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 or 
 
 THE FIKST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 THE ACQUIREMENTS AND HOPES OP 
 
 
 A VAGRANT 
 
 
 1 
 
 II. 
 
 DOUBTS DECIDED 
 
 
 . 24 
 
 ni. 
 
 TO SAN FRANCISCO . 
 
 
 . 32 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE LIEUTENANT 
 
 
 39 
 
 V. 
 
 MR. GEORGE LORNEY 
 
 
 50 
 
 VI. 
 
 LAURA 
 
 
 58 
 
 VII. 
 
 SPECULATIONS 
 
 
 67 
 
 VIII. 
 
 HENRY FROUD 
 
 
 75 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE lieutenant's FATE 
 
 
 86 
 
 X. 
 
 AUGUSTUS bliss 
 
 
 92
 
 Vlll CONTENTS OF FIRST VOLUME, 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XI. THE LORNETS GO TO EUROPE, A2fD 
 
 HAVE A FELLOW-TRAVELLER . 101 
 
 XIL THE EXPEDITION TO NEW GUINEA . 110 
 
 XIII. THE RETURN OP HENRY PROUD . 118 
 
 XIV. NEW GUINEA — AN UNEXPLORED 
 
 PARADISE . . . .126 
 
 XV. THE EXPLORING PARTY, AND WHAT 
 
 THEY SAW IN THE ISLAND OF NEW 
 
 GUINEA . . . .136 
 
 XVI. EXPLORING CONTINUED . . 147 
 
 XVII. THE ESCAPE FROM NEW GUINEA . 159 
 
 XVIII. THE WOUNDED PIRATE . .171 
 
 XIX. ISABEL . . . .183 
 
 XX. THE pirate's ACCOUNT OP HBISELF 192 
 
 XXI. A robber's DEN ON THE ISTHMUS . 207
 
 ANDREW DEVEREL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ACQUIEEMENTS AND HOPES OF A 
 VAGKANT. 
 
 His years but young, but in experience old. 
 
 Shakspeabe. 
 
 One afternoon in May 1850, Andrew Deverel 
 wandered into his native town, a small village 
 on the Erie Canal in the State of New York. 
 He was in his childhood's home, yet a stranger. 
 Nine years had passed since he had left the 
 place, and all things had changed except the 
 canal. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2, Andrew Deverel. 
 
 He passed through the town to the village 
 graveyard, and seeking amongst the graves, he 
 came to one that had the appearance of not 
 having been seen for years. 
 
 The top of a plain slab of marble at the 
 head of the grave was inclined to the earth, 
 and a wooden fence that had once enclosed it 
 was decaying on the ground. 
 
 He stood by his mother's grave. 
 
 It was the last place he had visited before 
 leaving his early home, and the first halting- 
 place to which his footsteps were directed on 
 his return. 
 
 ' I come here because I have no other home,' 
 thought he. * This is my home — the only 
 place where I am not intruding.' 
 
 To break the strength of rising emotions, he 
 passed on. 
 
 A stone at the head of another grave met 
 his gaze, and he read the words : —
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes. 3 
 
 IN MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 SAEAH WOOSTEK, 
 
 WHO DIED 
 
 May 25, 1838. 
 
 ^ I remember it was on my twelfth birthday 
 that Sarah Wooster died. 
 
 'This is the 25th day of May 1850. This 
 day I am twenty-two years of age.' 
 
 The sun went down, and a night dark as his 
 thoughts came over the earth as he wandered 
 to and fro about the village. 
 
 The night was cold and rainy, and he had 
 no shelter. 
 
 * What shall be done now ? ' thought he. ' I 
 am not acquainted with a person in the village. 
 I have not the colour of money in my pockets. 
 I am hungry. The houses are closed, and I 
 would not beg even if they were not. I must 
 B 2
 
 4 Andrew DevereL 
 
 live as I can until morning, and then look 
 for work. I must walk about the streets of 
 my native village all night.' 
 
 He had reached the tow-path, and while thus 
 musing, two horses passed by him towing a 
 boat. Immediately after he heard a shout, and 
 a noise of something falling in the water. 
 
 Hastening to the spot whence the shout 
 proceeded, he found a man struggling in the 
 water, unable to climb the bank. 
 
 The man had been thrown into the water by 
 the tow-line, the horses having passed, leaving 
 him between the line and the canal. 
 
 Andrew Deverel succeeded in pulling the 
 man out just before the boat itself reached the 
 spot. A few seconds longer, and the man 
 would have been crushed by the boat against 
 the bank. 
 
 'I am indebted for a longer existence to 
 you,' said the man; 'but the night is so
 
 His Acquirements a7td Hop 
 
 es. 
 
 dark I cannot tell who you are. I am John 
 Grey, the miller. Come up to my rooms, and 
 I will try and express my thanks over some 
 hot brandy and water, I am too cold to do 
 so here.' 
 
 ' I am willing to go with you,' said 
 Andrew, ' and thus find a shelter from this 
 storm ; but will only go on the condition that 
 you say nothing about thanks.' 
 
 * All right,' said the miller ; ^ you shall 
 not be annoyed. Come this way. There is 
 the lamp of the public-house, and we shall 
 soon be under shelter.' 
 
 John Grey was a bachelor about forty-five 
 years of age, was a little eccentric in his 
 character and habits. He had made what in 
 the State of New York is thought to be a 
 fortune, by grinding wheat and exporting the 
 flour to Liverpool. Although able to retire 
 from business, he was unwilling to do so, for
 
 6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 he saw no more agreeable way of killing time 
 than by superintending it. 
 
 Mr. Grey conducted the young Inan to his 
 rooms on the second floor of the public-house. 
 Drawing a chair near the fire, he bade him sit 
 down, and after placing some Avood on the 
 expiring fire, he retired to his bed-room adjoin- 
 ing, from which he soon after reappeared in a 
 dressing-gown and slippers. 
 
 * I see you are a stranger in this place,' said 
 Mr. Grey, after closely observing the young 
 man for the first time. 
 
 ^ I arrived in the village this afternoon,' said 
 Andrew, ' and of course I am a stranger here. 
 Did you ever see a resident of the place so 
 elaborately adorned with rags as myself? ' 
 
 Mr. Grey was a very shrewd observer of 
 humanity, and saw at a glance that the youth 
 before him was no ordinary person. Had he been 
 like the generality of young men, he would have
 
 His Acquire77ients and Hopes. y 
 
 been at least decently dressed. For, thanks to 
 the institutions and dimensions of the great 
 republic, its citizens need not suffer for food and 
 clothing; and had Andrew Deverel been like 
 the majority of others, he would have been 
 gaudily dressed, and disfigured with cheap 
 jewellery. 
 
 ' The population of the village is not large, 
 said Mr. Grey, ^and I judged you to be a 
 stranger by your face not being familiar to me ; 
 and I must own that you do not appear to be 
 on good terms with mankind in general, or 
 tailors in particular. I do not wish to flatter 
 you, but I regard your appearance as evidence 
 of genius unappreciated by the world.' 
 
 ' Thank you. You have expressed my sen- 
 timents nearly as well as I could myself. 
 There is but one thing you could have said 
 that would have pleased me more, and that 
 would have been to give the order for the
 
 8 Andrew DevereL 
 
 brandy and hot water you mentioned when I 
 first had the pleasure of making your acquaint- 
 ance.' 
 
 'I have not forgotten it/ said Mr. Grey, 
 ringing a bell, ' for we both need it. I hope 
 that the soft inclinations of your mind do not 
 lead you to brandy alone.' 
 
 ' Only on particular occasions such as the 
 present, when I am wet, cold, and hungry.' 
 
 ' These three disagreeable sensations can 
 soon be removed. How long have you been 
 without food? I am only asking out of 
 curiosity.' 
 
 ' I had a very good dinner yesterday, and 
 after eating it, I told the landlord that I would 
 pay him the next time I came that way, if I 
 had the money. He gave me an invitation 
 never to come again, and directed me to a place 
 where I would get warm.' 
 
 Mr. Grey gave orders to the waiter to bring
 
 His Acquirements, and Hopes, g 
 
 the brandy alid water immediately. ^ And bring 
 something to eat for two, as soon as the Lord 
 will let you, and as much quicker as you 
 can.' 
 
 The brandy came and was drunk, and soon 
 after the supper was brought in. 
 
 ^You must both eat and talk,' said Mr. 
 Grey, as they sat down to the table. ' It is late, 
 and we shall have no time to spare in talking 
 after our supper. I wish you to tell me how 
 you came to be on such bad terms with the 
 world.' 
 
 ^ Pray talk of something else, or I shall 
 curse what you call the world and everything 
 that owns it,' said the young man. 
 
 ' Stop that,' exclaimed the miller, ' and try 
 and make your company agreeable. Art thou 
 a Christian, yet curse the world that has been 
 the home of thy Redeemer, and the things 
 your God has made ? If you arc unhappy.
 
 lo Andrew D ever el. 
 
 why curse the lovely earth, and all things 
 beautiful ? Search within your own soul for 
 what gives it pain. You were made for the 
 world, and not the world for you. Be thankful 
 that thou art required in the construction of a 
 universe, and make yourself worthy of the 
 part you have to act in it. What would 
 become of the world if the laws of nature 
 could be controlled by the silly whims of indi- 
 viduals? If you have any reason, give it 
 action for one minute, and be happy.' 
 
 ' Do not talk to me of happiness ; I am not 
 so silly as to hope for that. In my life I have 
 seen only two persons that were not miserable. 
 One of those was a lunatic, and the other 
 an idiot.' 
 
 ' If only lunatics and fools were happy, you 
 should enjoy unbounded felicity, for I never 
 listened to more genuine nonsense than you 
 can talk. Let us take an observation of the
 
 Hh Acquirements and Hopes. 1 1 
 
 circumstances in which you are placed, and 
 determine the course for you to steer in the 
 future. Do you state all that annoys you, and 
 I will examine the means by which it may be 
 removed.' 
 
 ^ Certainly, if you wish it, and I will not 
 converse on any other subject than the one 
 of which I know the most. In the first 
 place I have poor health. My constitution 
 has become injured by exposure and hard- 
 ships in many climes. I am ignorant, and 
 have a desire to obtain knowledge. I am in 
 great poverty, and am not contented with it. 
 I have not a relative or friend in the world, 
 and I have some enemies. The education I 
 have received by wandering from one place to 
 another makes me unfitted for any special em- 
 ployment. I am so clothed with rags that no 
 one would listen to any terms I could offer. I 
 am madly in love with a girl who would faint
 
 IZ Andrew Deverel. 
 
 with disgust and indignation should I speak to 
 her.' 
 
 ' That is a long catalogue of miseries, and 
 very warm ones too/ said Mr. Grey ; ^ but does 
 it comprise all ? ' 
 
 ''No. The worst of all is the state to 
 which my mind is brought by those I have 
 mentioned. I have no energy, no hope, 
 no love of life, and no fear of death. All 
 my feelings are gradually changing into hate 
 and pride. I believe the strongest feeling 
 that keeps me from crime, is my dislike to 
 giving mankind the pleasure of punishing me 
 for it.' 
 
 ' I see nothing in all you have told me but 
 what may he overcome or redeemed by action, 
 guided by a determined will and a right spirit. 
 Your health may be regained by proper care, 
 food, exercise, and sleep. 
 
 ' The acquisition of knowledge is a pleasant 
 
 < . -« »'! l ' U.I I H
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes. 13 
 
 recreation that will go far in removing your 
 unhappiness. 
 
 ' Wealth sufficient for earthly wants may be 
 acquired by industry and economy ; and a 
 judicious pursuit of wealth is the most effec- 
 tual way of regaining your health. You will 
 surely find friends while seeking in the right 
 manner for wealth and knowledge.' 
 
 ' What you tell me is possible, yet very 
 doubtful. Suppose all you show me could 
 certainly be mine at the price you require 
 — those blessings are not worth the toil 
 and care required in procuring them, for 
 health, wealth, knowledge, and liberty do not 
 confer happiness. Many have I seen with 
 them all, yet as miserable as myself. No 
 doubt, were my circumstances to change to- 
 morrow, I should be equally dissatisfied ; for 
 it is human nature to seek and find not.' 
 
 ' If people will close their eyes, they cannot
 
 14 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 see although the sun may be shining ; and if 
 you are determined not to look for happiness, 
 you cannot find it.' 
 
 ' You are telling me to be happy, and yet, 
 may be, you are as miserable as myself. You 
 apply your philosophy to the circumstances of 
 others and show how all unhappiness may be 
 prevented, and vex yourself because they are 
 not benefited by it.' 
 
 ^ I believe there is some truth in what you 
 say, for I am irritated to see a youth so un- 
 reasonable as you are, and probably have ever 
 been, and to hear you talk as you have been 
 talking to me, on a subject of which 1 know so 
 much and you know so little. I confess my 
 displeasure at seeing this beautiful earth made 
 the scene of so much needless sorrow. It 
 makes me angry to see pearls so profusely 
 cast before swine — ay, worse than swine, 
 for man fiendishly reviles what he has not the
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes. 15 
 
 wisdom to use. He is a loathsome ungrateful 
 reptile, despoiling a bed of flowers. You seem 
 to have no disposition for doing anything, good 
 or bad: those are worse than dead who can 
 see nothing worth living for. It is absurd to 
 call yourself " madly in love," when you will 
 not make an effort to win the object.' 
 
 ' Show me a shadow of hope that my efforts 
 will ever be of any avail, and I will display an 
 energy and perseverance enough to satisfy 
 even you.' 
 
 ' You have hope. Men cannot live without 
 it. Awaken yours, and act. Much — every- 
 thing may be done in five or six years. Set 
 up an object, and never yield to any circum- 
 stances that seem to stand in the way of 
 reaching it. Place yourself under my care 
 and tuition for a few weeks, and we will see if 
 you are capable of being made into anything 
 but a useless encumbrance of the earth.
 
 1 6 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 ' What lias been your education ? Do you 
 know anything at all ? ' 
 
 ^ I was two years at school, from the time I 
 was eleven years old until I was thirteen ; and 
 in those two years I did not injure my health 
 by too much study.' 
 
 ' Bad — very bad. How is your penman- 
 ship ? Do you know how to write ? ' 
 
 * I could write a little before I went to 
 school, and have improved since.' 
 
 'Good. Do you know anything of arith- 
 metic ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I can some way arrive at a correct 
 answer to any question you can ask me.' 
 
 ' Very good. What else do you know ? ' 
 
 ' I can speak German.' 
 
 ' Better still. That may help you to obtain 
 some respectable employment. How did you 
 learn German ? ' 
 
 'My mother's parents were German, and
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes. 
 
 / 
 
 it was her native language. She taught me to 
 speak and to read it, and when a child we had 
 German servants, and I associated much with 
 them.' 
 
 ' Is there anything else you know ? ' 
 
 * I can speak Italian.' 
 
 ' That language is not of much use in busi- 
 ness. But how did you learn to speak it ? ' 
 
 ' A few months after leaving school my 
 mother died, leaving me without a home, and 
 I was a wandering minstrel for more than a 
 year with two Italian girls, and I learnt the 
 language from them.' 
 
 ' Can you speak any other language ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, French and Spanish.' 
 
 ' Wonderful ! How did you learn French ? ' 
 
 ^ After leaving the Italian girls, I was for 
 more than a year a cabin-boy in a French 
 ship.' 
 
 ' And Spanish ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 1 8 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 ' I was in the Mexican war, where I re- 
 mained awhile after the war was over. I have 
 but lately returned. I have been all my life 
 where I could associate with people of many 
 countries, and I always try to converse with 
 each in his own language.' 
 
 ^ I fear you know a " hetle " too much for 
 me to be of any use to you. Are you 
 honest ? ' 
 
 ^ I have ever been so, except on some occa- 
 sions when I have been very hungry.' 
 
 'What has been your reason for being 
 honest?' 
 
 'For the reason that I have had no par- 
 ticular inducement to be otherwise, except 
 sometimes to get a dinner, as I did yesterday, 
 and that very seldom, and would not do so 
 under any circumstances more than three 
 times a week. Having no object in the future 
 strengthens the worst feelins^s of human na-
 
 His Acquirements ajid Hopes. 19 
 
 ture, and makes us regardless of the rights of 
 others.' 
 
 ' You are a wonderful youth. I could not 
 have believed, before meeting with you, that 
 the human mind was capable of such perverse 
 folly. Now what would you like to do, supposing 
 you had the power of doing as you pleased?' 
 
 ^ Marry the girl I love.' 
 
 * You believe this to be impossible ? ' 
 
 ' I do ; but the hope of doing that is the 
 only thing that could inspire me to action. 
 Show me the smallest hope of winning her, 
 and there is nothing but what I would try to 
 do.' 
 
 ^That is talking more sensibly, and I be- 
 lieve something may be made of you yet. 
 Now tell me all you know about the girl, and 
 let us see whether there is any hope for you 
 or not.' 
 
 ^ Her name is Laura Lorney, and she 
 c 2
 
 20 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 cannot be more than seventeen years of age. 
 Her father lives near the city of New Orleans, 
 and has pride enough for the whole Spanish 
 nation. He has much wealth and some talent, 
 and has refused to be nominated for a member 
 of Congress — his aristocratic pride leading 
 him to suppose the station beneath his dignity. 
 I first saw her in a carriage in the city, and 
 then spent six weeks' time and all my money 
 in trying to see more of her, but during that 
 time I only got a glimpse of her twice. If 
 you can now show me any hope, you are a 
 very ingenious man.' 
 
 ' Give you hope ? certainly I can. The 
 girl is undoubtedly good-looking ? ' 
 
 ^ Wonderfully so, in my opinion, and I fear 
 in that of others also.' 
 
 ^ And she is a native of the *^ sunny south." 
 Her name is Laura. Under all these circum- 
 stances, she will certainly marry some one, or
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes, 2,1 
 
 should do so. If she is a person so superior 
 that no one has a chance of getting her, I 
 would not advise you to try; but believing 
 she will marry, I know of no reason why you 
 cannot be made as worthy of her as another. 
 Compare yourself with other men, and not 
 with her, and you will see that your prospect 
 looks much brighter.' 
 
 ' It certainly does. You are right. Though 
 covered with dirt and rags, I am inferior to no 
 man on earth until I have been tried and found 
 wantino*. I wonder that I have never thousfht 
 of this before.' 
 
 ^ Now you are beginning to live, and I must 
 put you in the way of doing something.' 
 
 * During the long years I am doing this 
 something, she may marry another.' 
 
 ' In that case, marry another yourself. You 
 must not do your countrywomen so much in- 
 justice as to believe that only one of them is
 
 %% Andrew Deverel. 
 
 worthy of you. You must write to Laura 
 Lorney and command her to wait for you.' 
 ' Write to her ? Command her ? ' 
 ' Certainly. Both of you are too young to 
 marry, but you must not neglect her on that 
 account. Some inconvenience exists in your 
 associating with her for three or four years, 
 and this must be remedied by an occasional 
 correspondence on your part, which will serve 
 to make her somewhat acquainted with you, 
 and cause her to examine the claims of others 
 ere she accepts them and rejects your own. 
 Unless she knows of the honour you intend to 
 confer on her, you cannot complain at her 
 accepting another. You must also write to 
 her aristocratic father, or he may think you are 
 trying to get his daughter without his consent 
 or knowledge. You must manage the business 
 with propriety, or you will not deserve the girl, 
 and ought not to get her.*
 
 His Acquirements and Hopes. 23 
 
 Andrew Deverel remained silent. 
 
 ^ Here are fifty dollars,' continued Mr. Grey. 
 * Take them, and make a respectable appearance 
 to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock in my 
 office at Grey's Mill in the east end of the 
 town on the other side of the canal.' 
 
 The young man took the money, said ^ good 
 night/ and left the room.
 
 ^4 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DOUBTS DECIDED. 
 
 At the appointed hour the next day, Andrew 
 Deverel entered the office of the miller, dressed 
 in a manner that showed his taste to be 
 good. 
 
 ' I intend to give you some employment if 
 you wish it/ said Mr. Grey. ' 1 think, from 
 your appearance and conversation, that you 
 are capable of succeeding in any pursuit you 
 choose to follow. As I believe that practical 
 knowledge is far superior to any other, I can 
 but approve of the manner you have been 
 educated. The principal way by which we
 
 Doubts decided, 2,^ 
 
 obtain knowledge is by the use of our eyes, 
 and you appear to have had opportunities of 
 gaining much information in that way, and 
 also to be capable of forming opinions on what 
 you have seeu. What occupation would you 
 like to follow, or what situation shall I try 
 to procure for you ? ' 
 
 ' Anything that a man need not feel shame 
 in following.' 
 
 ' You are g, good-looking young fellow. 
 Would you like a situation in some place 
 where the ladies love to do their shopping ? ' 
 
 ' No ; I want some occupation more manly 
 than that. There is work in this world re- 
 quiring men to perform, and such work I 
 would do, if able.' 
 
 ' That 's right— I thought so.' 
 
 ^ T wish for some active employment where I 
 should not be too much under the control of 
 others. I have been in situations where I was
 
 26 Andrew D ever eh 
 
 told when to move and when to stand. I did 
 not like it, and have no wish to be in a similar 
 position again.' 
 
 ' I have no wish to dictate to you your oc- 
 cupation. Do not be hasty ; take three or four 
 days to decide upon what you would wish to 
 do. Call here each day if you wish, and when 
 I am not engaged we can get better acquainted.' 
 
 Andrew rose to depart. Before he reached 
 the door, Mr. Grey said, ' Have you got a 
 name ? ' 
 
 ^Yes — Andrew Deverel.' 
 
 ' Deverel ! Deverel ! Are you a native of 
 this village ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, and that was probably the reason why 
 I have visited it again, although what was 
 my object in coming I know not, and never 
 shall.' 
 
 ' Good day ! ' said Mr. Grey, turning to his 
 desk. Andrew Deverel departed, leaving the
 
 Doubts decided. 
 
 Z7 
 
 old bachelor looking at his ledger, but thinking 
 of years that had long passed. 
 
 ^That is the son of Louisa Konig,' thought 
 he, ^the son of her who rejected me and 
 married that poor devil Deverel, who killed 
 himself with drink two years after. I will do 
 something for that young man. It will prove 
 that my love for his mother Avas such as a man 
 should know, and that I bear no malice to the 
 memory of his father.' 
 
 Mr. Grey had a brother in the city of New 
 York who was engaged in the shipping business. 
 The day on which he met Andrew Deverel, 
 he had received a letter from his brother in- 
 viting him to join in the speculation of sending 
 a ship to California. 
 
 ' I will send this young man to California/ 
 thought Mr. Grey. ^ If he conducts himself 
 properly, he will repay me ; if not, the money 
 will be lost. But I will run the risk.'
 
 z8 Andrew DevereL 
 
 Tn answer to his brother, he wrote offering 
 to join him in the speculation, and agreeing to 
 abide by any arrangements the brother should 
 make concerning it. 
 
 ^ Would you like to go to California ? ' asked 
 Mr. Grey the next day when Andrew called at 
 the office. 
 
 ' Indeed I should,' answered Andrew. ^ It 
 is the place for a young man who wishes to 
 live fast by making a fortune while young.' 
 
 ' Very well ; you shall have the means to go 
 if you wish it. I can see no field in which a 
 young man can accomplish so much in a short 
 time.' 
 
 ' I have often regretted my inability to go 
 there, and shall be glad if you can give me an 
 opportunity. I have been thinking, as you 
 requested, of what occupation I should follow 
 here, and have been unable to decide on any- 
 thing.'
 
 Doubts decided. zg 
 
 ' We will call the business decided now. I 
 will write to my brother in New York to 
 secure you a passage to San Francisco by the 
 way of Panama. I will give you some business 
 to do for me in San Francisco, after which you 
 can try to do something for yourself.' 
 
 While waiting the result of the communica- 
 tion to his brother, Mr. Grey had many long 
 conversations with Andrew, and was surprised 
 at the mixture of ability and perverseness he 
 displayed. His wandering life had given him 
 some knowledge of many phases of life. 
 
 Though young in years, he had seen more of 
 the world and endured more hardships than 
 many who have lived to an advanced age. Few 
 things worth learning could be taught him by 
 one of his own years. 
 
 He had not yielded to the temptations that 
 ever beset those who live a wandering life, and 
 he had acquired none of the habits that are
 
 30 Andrew Deverel, 
 
 supposed to belong to all who are not trying to 
 appear more respectable than they really are. 
 His dislike to being under the control of others 
 was the chief cause why he had not succeeded 
 better in his fortune, but his love of indepen- 
 dence and his self-respect had preserved him 
 from becoming the slave of any vice. It was 
 his pride to show that he could do without 
 both favours and indulgences. 
 
 The business between Mr. Grey and his 
 brother was soon arranged, and Andrew 
 Deverel left his native village for New York. 
 When shaking hands with Mr. Grey on leav- 
 ing him, each knew that he grasped the hand 
 of a friend. 
 
 The Sunday after Andrew's departure, some 
 of the inhabitants of the village, when walk- 
 ing through the village graveyard, saw that 
 the grave of the widow Deverel was surrounded 
 by a new railing.
 
 Doubts decided, 31 
 
 This was also noticed by John Grey. 
 
 ' That is what I have wished to do for a long 
 time/ thought he ; ' but pride, which should 
 humble us all, has prevented me.'
 
 33 Andrew DevereL 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TO SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 On July 13, 1850, Andrew Deverel embarked 
 on the steam ship Philadelphia, bound to 
 Chagres. 
 
 Before leaving New York he wrote a letter 
 to Laura Lorney, and by the same mail he 
 also sent a letter to her father. 
 
 The 16th, 17th, and 18th days of July 
 1850, will ever be remembered by all who 
 were on board the steamer Philadelphia, from 
 the severe storm they encountered in the 
 Gulf Stream. 
 
 The bulwarks, one paddle-wheel, and several
 
 To San Francisco, ^^ 
 
 state rooms on the deck were carried away by 
 the sea. The male passengers worked night 
 and day at the pumps, and with much exertion 
 kept the ship afloat. 
 
 Five or six of the passengers had not 
 sufficient manliness to work, or seem will- 
 ing in any way to save themselves. The 
 reason may have been that they understood 
 their own value, and knew that they were 
 not worth saving. Some of the passengers 
 had claimed a certain superiority over the rest, 
 and they had been credited at their own valua- 
 tion. But in the hour of danger this distinction 
 vanished, and these men became of less im- 
 portance than any other thing on the ship. 
 
 We refrain from giving particulars of his 
 journey across the Isthmus to Panama. But 
 at Panama, Andrew met with an ' incident of 
 travel ' which had an interest for him. He 
 was to proceed from Panama in the steamer 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 California, commanded by Lieutenant Budd, 
 of the U. S. Navy. 
 
 The California was lying in the Bay of 
 Panama, and the passengers had to go off in 
 boats. When Andrew reached the ship, a 
 boat-load of steerage passengers were going up 
 its side, and while waiting for them to get on 
 board, he saw a youth of about seventeen, 
 who did not take the usual way of boarding a 
 ship, but, while the others were ascending the 
 side by the proper means, this youth managed 
 to get up by the paddle-wheel, and steal 
 forward unobserved by the officer stationed by 
 the gangway to examine the passage-tickets as 
 the passengers came on board. 
 
 This manoeuvre showed that the youth had 
 no passage-ticket, and was trying at a very 
 little expense to reach 
 
 the land 
 
 Where each bucket of sand 
 Is into a dollar reducible.
 
 To Sil// l)\Ul CISCO. ot 
 
 For ll\t' (Irsl. [vw days ol' I lit' passap^o to San 
 Franclsfo, Andrew saw llils yonlli on the dock 
 ov(M*y day, and lu^ Iuhmmio nuioli liiloroslod in 
 Ills appoaranoo. 
 
 Ills faoo wovv. a (i\od, nuiol, modilallvc 
 ox[)rosslon. 
 
 Ho assooiatod with none, and spoken only 
 wluMi addressed, and then in a, low respeclfid 
 lone. ( )ne day lie was standnej; near the rail 
 erossln;;- ahall. [\n\ wheels which separated the 
 s(e(M'ai;"e iVoin the cahin passengers. Aiuhi'W 
 drew near and he«;an a conversation. 
 
 ' ^'on appeal" very anxious to rea<'h (*aH- 
 fornia,' said he, alter tryinj:; l(> awaken tlu^ 
 youth to some aninialloii l>y eonnnon-plaeo 
 
 •iMiiarus. 
 
 YcB,' said lh(^ hoy, ' hnl. I don't know 
 why you should tlilnk 1 am more anxious tiian 
 others.' 
 
 ' 1 saw you when you came on Ixtaid the
 
 ^6 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 sliip,' said Andrew, ' and I formed that opinion 
 from tlie manner by which you reached the 
 deck.' 
 
 ' For God's sa^^e do not tell of me,' said the 
 youth. ' I had no money to pay my passage, or 
 I would not go in this way. I am obliged to 
 go to California on very important business, 
 and if I had delayed till I got the money it 
 would have been too late.' 
 
 ' I do not intend to expose you, for, from 
 what I have seen of your conduct since we 
 sailed, I have formed a very good opinion of 
 you. Let your conduct be such as will enable 
 me to retain that opinion, and I shall certainly 
 not speak of what I have seen. You seem 
 to be in much trouble, and that is not the 
 state of mind in which you should seek a land 
 like California. I suppose you are homesick, 
 and would like to see your friends again.' 
 
 ' Yes, partly so, and I have no one to talk
 
 To San Francisco, ^y 
 
 to me. I have nothing to do but to think of 
 home, and that does not make me happy.' 
 
 ' Why do you not read ? That is a better 
 way of passing time than the one you take.' 
 
 ' I have got no books, and I do n't like to 
 ask anybody to lend me.' 
 
 ^You are going to the land of gold, and 
 must look to the future with hope. It is 
 natural you should regret leaving friends, but 
 you should also be pleased at having friends to 
 leave. You are much better off than I am, 
 for I have not a relative in the world. 'No one 
 regrets my absence. No one will meet me 
 with much pleasure anywhere, for I have no 
 home. Do you think that you would be more 
 happy if, like me, you had no home to which 
 you could return ? ' 
 
 ' No ! no ! I should then wish to die. The 
 hope of some day returning is all that keeps 
 me alive now.'
 
 38 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 Andrew learnt that the name of the 
 youth was Henry Froud, and that his home 
 was near Niagara Falls. He conversed with 
 him every day during the rest of the voyage, 
 lent him books, and succeeded in arousing 
 him from the despondency into which he had 
 fallen. 
 
 Prince Kamehameha (now Kamehameha 
 lY.) and his brother were passengers with 
 Andrew from Panama to San Francisco, on 
 their way home to the Sandwich Islands. They 
 were returning from a visit to England, 
 France, and the United States. 
 
 Some of the passengers, who thought the 
 natives of the Sandwich Islands were savages, 
 were surprised at their intelligence and gentle- 
 manlike deportment.
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE LIEUTENANT. 
 
 Much as Andrew Deverel had seen of the 
 world, he saw and learnt much that was new 
 to him in San Francisco. Never before had 
 he seen collected together so many varieties of 
 the human race, or heard such a confusion of 
 tongues. Never before had he seen the ways 
 of vice arrayed in such splendour and placed 
 so conspicuously in the view of all. 
 
 In each street could be heard the rin<jing of 
 money on the gambling-tables, and the storm 
 of music that invited those passing into the 
 shining halls of sin.
 
 40 . * Andrew DevereL 
 
 The day after landing he met an old ac- 
 quaintance — a man who had been a lieutenant 
 in the company of volunteers in which he had 
 served in the Mexican war. 
 
 The distinctions of rank were now gone — 
 they met as equals and friends, for they had 
 marched many hundred miles together, and 
 had fought beside each other on four fields of 
 battle. 
 
 'Deverel,' said the Lieutenant, as they were 
 standing in the ^ Bella Union,' 'do you ever 
 play?' 
 
 ''Not often,' answered Andrew, as he re- 
 membered having lost and won on several 
 occasions a few 'bits' at the interesting game 
 of 'Poker.' 
 
 ' Not having a passion for it, I presume your 
 play has never been elevated far ? ' 
 
 'Never,' said Andrew, thinking of his games 
 of ' pickayune anti,' where two pairs were only
 
 The Lieutenant, * - 41 
 
 worth half of a dollar. ^I consider gambling 
 one of the most expensive amusements in which 
 a man can indulge. It is an amusement I have 
 never been able to afford.' 
 
 'You speak as though you thought gambling 
 was not a vice. Do you think a professional 
 gambler can be an honest man ? ' 
 
 'No doubt many of them are as honest as 
 the majority of speculators and lawyers ; yet as 
 gamblers are following a business that is not 
 thought necessary to the wants and happiness 
 of mankind, their profession or occupation is 
 an evil. Those in a respectable business, who 
 do not conduct it in an honourable manner, are 
 greater rogues than the majority of gamblers 
 who are in a business where not much honour 
 is expected. There must, or will be, a certain 
 amount of crime in the world, and where it 
 does not assume one form, it will another. 
 The reason why I never play is, that I
 
 4^ Andrew DevereL 
 
 never have had so large a sum of money but 
 what I could dispose of it more to my inclina- 
 tion than by losing it at gambling.' 
 
 ^You speak as though a man must always 
 lose.' 
 
 ^ Certainly. A man with a passion for play 
 will play so long as he has money, and he 
 cannot always be fortunate. What good 
 fortune has enabled him to win in one hour, 
 will be lost the next when fortune is against 
 him.' 
 
 *I have often learnt the truth of that. But is 
 it not possible for one to win, when in a run of 
 good fortune, what will enable him to go into 
 respectable business or live independent of 
 want for years ? ' 
 
 ^But after this run of good fortune, as you 
 call it, he must play no more ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not.' 
 
 ' Then it will be by not gambling that he
 
 The Lieutenant, 43 
 
 will be able to go into business, or live inde- 
 pendent of want for years. Thus you see the 
 only way to be successful in life is to refrain 
 from playing. Habits that require being thus 
 broken or overcome should never have been 
 acquired.' 
 
 During this conversation they were drinking 
 a bottle of claret apart from the crowds around 
 the gambling-tables, at which the Lieutenant, 
 who seemed very uneasy, was constantly 
 gazing. 
 
 ^ Come,' said he, *and watch the game awhile. 
 You can lose nothing but a little time at that, 
 and it will give us some amusement.' 
 
 They moved to a table where a tall good- 
 looking Mexican was * dealing monte.' They 
 watched the game for several minutes, when 
 Andrew saw that the Lieutenant was in 
 great distress, and evidently trying to sub- 
 due an inclination to put down his money.
 
 44 Andrew DevereL 
 
 To aid him, Andrew proposed a walk up 
 the street. 
 
 'El dos y Rey/ said the dealer, laying two 
 cards on the table before him. The Lieutenant 
 withdrew a hand from his pocket, bringing with 
 it a doubloon. ' Ocho pesos,' said he, placing the 
 coin near the deuce. The cards were turned. 
 ^El Rey en la puerte,' said the dealer, and the 
 Lieutenant received eight dollars, and the dou- 
 bloon was put in the bank. 
 
 The Lieutenant then took a seat at the table. 
 He played for some time with indifferent 
 fortune, winning one minute what he had lost 
 in the preceding. He then lost several bets 
 in succession, and, after having lost five dou- 
 bloons, left the table in a manner that told 
 Andrew Deverel that he had no more money 
 to lose. 
 
 'Why did you not play longer?' asked 
 Andrew after they had left the house. ' You
 
 The Liteutenant, 4^ 
 
 Lad a long run of ill-luck, and fortune must 
 soon have turned in your favour.' 
 
 'I lost all my money,' answered the other, 
 *and that is always the case with me. Just as 
 I should begin to win, I never have a stake to 
 put down.' 
 
 ^Let us change the subject,' said Andrew, 
 *for anything I could say to you might seem in 
 bad taste to one who has just lost his money.' 
 
 Before Andrew Deverel had been a week in 
 San Francisco, he was one day in a bowling 
 saloon, and found his young friend and fellow- 
 passenger, Henry Froud. Henry was much 
 pleased at seeing him, and seemed delighted 
 with the prospects of the future. 
 
 ^ If I keep in good health,' said he, * all will 
 be right. I found employment, the day I 
 landed, at setting up the pins in this alley.' 
 
 * Is that the important business that brought 
 you to California ? ' asked Andrew.
 
 46 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 ' Yes. I came here to make money, and I 
 am doing so. I get eighty dollars a month 
 and my board here, and when I have been 
 here two or three months I shall go to the 
 diggings and make a fortune. There is no 
 one in California who needs a few hundred 
 dollars so much as I do, and if I have good 
 health I am sure of getting what I want. 
 Anyone knowing the circumstances under 
 which I left home would be nearly as much 
 pleased at seeing me do well, as they would 
 to do well themselves.' 
 
 * I know nothing of your circumstances, but 
 am pleased that you are earning money, and 
 that you have bright hopes of the future.' 
 
 ' I '11 tell you the reason that has brought 
 me here. I am the eldest boy of a family of 
 six children. My father has a farm, and has 
 paid about half the money for it, and there is 
 a mortgage on the farm for the rest. A few
 
 The Lieutenant. 47 
 
 months before I came away, my father had a 
 stroke of paralysis^ by which he became unable 
 to work. We could see no way of paying up 
 the mortgage on the farm, which would be- 
 come due in less than two years, and were 
 afraid that the money already paid would be 
 lost, and that we should be turned out of a 
 home. This thought so haunted father's mind 
 that it was perfect misery to be in his com- 
 pany. All day long he was lamenting his 
 misfortunes and the gloomy prospect before 
 us. One would think he was waiting im- 
 patiently for himself and the little ones to be 
 taken to the poor-house. I could not stand it 
 any longer. I could do but little good at 
 home. I could not raise the money to pay the 
 mortgage by remaining, but I was resolved to 
 do so or die. I knew it was of no use trying 
 to get my parents' consent to my going to 
 California, even if I had had the money to take
 
 48 Andrew DevereL 
 
 me there. I determined to run away, not, as 
 rats leave a sinking ship, to save myself, but I 
 was actuated by the wish to aid my family. I 
 worked my passage to New York on a canal- 
 boat, and went from New York to Chagres in 
 a steamer as cook's assistant. At first I was a 
 little sorry at leaving home in that way, but I 
 am glad of it now, for I shall help my people. 
 Father and mother will manage some way to 
 live on the farm, and before the mortgage 
 becomes due, I shall be home with the money 
 to pay it.' 
 
 ^ I sincerely hope that you may,' said An- 
 drew, ' for you deserve to succeed. There is 
 but one thing that will prevent you from 
 accomplishing your wishes. Before you have 
 been here a year, you will have many strong 
 temptations to withstand, and you must be 
 diiFerent from the majority of young men un- 
 less you yield to some of them. You must
 
 The Lieutenant. 
 
 49 
 
 beware of the first downward step towards 
 vice.' 
 
 * There is no fear of my doing that. Every 
 time I shall be inclined to play for money, or 
 do anything else wrong, a picture of my poor 
 father and mother and the little ones would 
 rise up before me to keep me from it. My 
 poor father, whose head is always shaking now, 
 would then seem to be moving it in warning 
 me to stop.' 
 
 ' You are a youth of the right sort,' said 
 Andrew, ^ and I hope that your love for your 
 relatives will long keep you so ; but remember 
 that as one good quality of mind enables us to 
 sustain others, so one evil habit, when once 
 admitted, will open the door for more.' 
 
 Andrew then left his young friend, after 
 promising to call often and sec him. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 50 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. GEORGE LORNEY. 
 
 From the promenade deck of a steamboat 
 moving up or down the Mississippi, many 
 lovely-looking homes may be seen within a 
 few miles of New Orleans, but none of them 
 look more delightful than the one occupied by 
 George Lorney, whose mansion was about 
 half of a mile from the river, and surrounded 
 by all that art and nature could do to make it 
 attractive. 
 
 Nor did the interior of the house contradict 
 the promise given by the outside. The halls 
 were ornamented with Italian marble, to each
 
 Mr, George Lorney, 51 
 
 piece of which seemed to have been given 
 life and soul by the hands and brain of emi- 
 nent artists. The walls were decorated with 
 paintings of great value, principally of the 
 French and Spanish schools. Mr. Lorney 
 was a man of literature. His library was 
 thought to be the best in the State of 
 Louisiana. 
 
 ' Wellington should soon be back from the 
 post-office/ thought Mr. Lorney one warm 
 afternoon in the latter part of the month of 
 July; and, as a preparation for reading his 
 letters, he left the library by a door that 
 opened to a verandah on the east side of his 
 mansion. Here a hammock was slune:, in 
 which he passed much of his time reading. 
 
 Seeing the expected servant riding up the 
 avenue, he called for refreshments to enable 
 him to perform the task of reading his letters 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 'LLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 ^Z Andrew DevereL 
 
 and papers more pleasantly. Claret, ice, and 
 lemons were brought, and a lovely represen- 
 tative of the ' sable Yenus ' stood near to 
 administer them. 
 
 Reclining in the hammock, Mr. Lorney 
 received his letters. One was from a French 
 nobleman, an old acquaintance. The subject 
 of this letter was political philosophy, or the 
 reflections of a Frenchman on French politics. 
 One letter was from a friend in high authority 
 in "Washington. It was a prophetic letter, 
 conveying intelligence of events that were 
 soon to transpire. One letter bore the post- 
 mark of New York, and was addressed in a 
 handwriting not familiar to him. 
 
 * From whom can this be ? ' thought he. ^ I 
 have no correspondent in New York, and do 
 not wish for any. What business has a 
 trading speculating Yankee with me ? ' Open- 
 ing the letter, he read as follows : —
 
 Mr. George Lorney. 53 
 
 'New York, July 12, 1850. 
 
 ' Sir, — A few months ago I resided for a 
 few days in the city of New Orleans, and 
 while there I had the pleasure of seeing your 
 daughter. From that time I have been re- 
 solved that, on our arriving at a suitable age, 
 she shall be my wife. 
 
 ' I do not wish to take any means to bring 
 about the accomplishment of this resolve un- 
 known to yourself, and for this reason I write 
 to acquaint you with my intentions. 
 
 ' Your daughter is unacquainted with me, 
 and consequently you will understand the 
 necessity of my writing to her occasionally in 
 order that this misfortune should be partly 
 removed.' 
 
 Here Mr. Lorney put down the letter, and 
 exclaimed, ' Josey, some wine ! '
 
 54 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 Revived by the cool claret, he resumed the 
 reading of the letter. 
 
 ^ There is but one reasonable objection you 
 can make to me as a son-in-law, and that is 
 my poverty. During the next four years I 
 shall do what I can, in an honourable way, 
 towards removing this objection. 
 
 ' Should I succeed in honestly acquiring 
 some wealth, your good sense will enable you 
 to see that my exertions will merit more re- 
 spect than wealth can give when inherited. 
 Though I do not claim to be worthy of your 
 daughter, I believe I am as worthy of her as 
 any other man. 
 
 ' The exertions I shall make to accomplish 
 the fulfilment of my hopes may benefit me in 
 after years, whether I succeed or not. Know- 
 ing this, I shall try to merit your good opinion, 
 and your daughter's warmest respect. 
 
 * I cannot tell you who I am now, for I am
 
 Mr. George Lorney. 55 
 
 nobody. When I have become Avhat the 
 world will acknowledge to be some one, you 
 shall hear from me again. 
 ' Mr. George Lorney.' 
 
 ^ That is rather amusins:,' thous^ht Mr. 
 Lorney. ^ It is from some Yankee youth, for 
 no other could write such a letter. No other 
 could possess so much energy, conceit, hope, 
 impertinence, and courage. He is a promising 
 youth, and I hope he will do well.' 
 
 Considering the business unworthy of further 
 notice, Mr. Lorney took up a paper, and forgot 
 the letter over the news of the day. 
 
 The father of IVIr. Lorney had been a 
 wealthy planter. When he died he left his only 
 son George the heir of a large plantation — 
 several hundred slaves, and the holder of bank 
 stock to a large amount. 
 
 George Lorney when young had made tlie
 
 g6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 most of a good opportunity of acquiring an 
 excellent education. In his youth he passed 
 several years in Europe. 
 
 At the age of twenty-five he married the 
 only daughter of a planter, and by her received 
 a considerable addition to his wealth. 
 
 The only offspring of this marriage was one 
 child, the girl Laura, who had captivated by 
 her appearance the soul of the wandering and 
 homeless Andrew Deverel. 
 
 Laura Lorney had been educated in her 
 father's house, and although her accomplish- 
 ments were many, the manner in which she 
 had been educated had not spoiled her child- 
 like simplicity. Mrs. Lorney was a woman 
 who, compared with any women but those of 
 the United States, would have been thought to 
 possess many disagreeable eccentricities; but 
 she was not unlike many other American 
 women.
 
 Mr. George Lorney. 57 
 
 She would have made some men very un- 
 happy, but Mr. Lorney possessed a philosophi- 
 cal turn of mind that enabled him to be often 
 amused, and seldom allowed him to be annoyed, 
 at all that was disagreeable in his companion. 
 
 Between Mrs. Lorney and her daughter 
 there did not exist the confidence and com- 
 panionship that generally exist between mo- 
 thers and daughters. Laura was not want- 
 ing in duty and affection for her mother, but 
 she preferred the society of her father, and he 
 would always lay aside his book and amuse her 
 by conversation, in which he ever tried to give 
 her some knowledge of the world and aid her 
 in forming correct opinions.
 
 58 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 LAURA. 
 
 Leaving Mr. Lorney engaged with his papers, 
 we will make a call on his daughter Laura. 
 She is in the lawn near the house, seeking 
 amusement by tormenting a sleepy hound. On 
 being woke up with a stick, the hound opened 
 his eyes, and his features expressed a smile of 
 recognition and friendship at seeing his young 
 mistress, and then lazily composed himself 
 again to forgetfuiness of a dog's happy exis- 
 tence. Again the stick disturbed his slumbers. 
 He did not smile then, but assumed an expres- 
 sion of countenance that seemed to say, * I am
 
 Laura, 59 
 
 in great want of sleep ; pray do not annoy me 
 more/ and, trusting that this request would be 
 heeded, he once more closed his eyes. Again 
 he was awaked to the cares of this unfeeling 
 world, which cares, in his opinion, then con- 
 sisted of mischievous girls and long; sticks. 
 He then ventured a slight reproof for her 
 cruelty by a gentle growl, which also seemed 
 to convey some idea of his astonishment at 
 her unladylike behaviour. ' Poor Satan,' ex- 
 claimed Laura, caressing the dog, ^ I '11 tease 
 you no more.' 
 
 An unfortunate kitten then attracted her 
 attention, and catching it she proceeded with 
 it across the lawn to a large tree from which 
 a rope was depending on which the young 
 blacks amused themselves by swinging. 
 
 She found a blue ribbon lying near, and 
 with it tied the kitten to the rope. She 
 then moved it to and fro, gently increasing the
 
 6o Andrew Deverel. 
 
 speed of its vibrations until tlie kitten was 
 flying from side to side twenty feet high. 
 Becoming weary of this, she released the kitten, 
 which started for the house with a speed that 
 seemed to transform it into a large black snake 
 moving with elevated coils. 
 
 In search of other adventures she drew near 
 the house, where she found a miniature ' image 
 of God cut in ebony ' crawling on the grass. 
 She took from it a baby rattle, which she 
 threw a few feet beyond its reach, and when 
 the child would attempt crawling to regain its 
 toy, she would place one of her little feet on 
 its dress. When first retarded in its efforts to 
 move, the child displayed the white of its eyes 
 in profound astonishment. Again he tried to 
 advance, and was suddenly checked. His 
 countenance then assumed an expression of one 
 about to investigate the cause of some profound 
 mystery. He examined the ground over which
 
 Laura. 6i 
 
 he had been trying to crawl, his garments, 
 the vicinity about him, and the sky above, but 
 could only see one possible cause of the mystery 
 he was trying to solve, and that was Miss 
 Laura. 
 
 He now tried the experiment of keeping one 
 eye on the toy and the other in observing what 
 would transpire in the rear. 
 
 This attempt gave his features such an 
 expression of excruciating agony, that Laura 
 had not the cruelty to annoy him more. 
 
 Do not imagine, reader, that Laura had no 
 amusements but such as we have attempted to 
 describe. She could also find pleasure in 
 pleasing others, and there was not a servant on 
 the plantation but what would ' declar ' that 
 ^ missy Lory ' was an angel, and the ' most 
 kindest one dat eber libed.' 
 
 Her parents had taken much pains to keep 
 from her the knowledge that she was then a
 
 6^ Andrew Deverel. 
 
 young lady. She was still regarded as a girl, 
 and was allowed to conduct herself in a very 
 girlish manner. 
 
 With every feature of her face, except the 
 eyes, some fault could be found ; her eyes 
 were large, and of a colour seldom seen, yet 
 they were blue. Her brow, when seen without 
 blending the view with the other features, 
 seemed too large, and her lips, observed in the 
 same manner, seemed too full ; but each feature 
 so adorned the others that envy itself could 
 not deny her claim to beauty. 
 
 On entering the house, after having amused 
 herself as above related, a letter was handed to 
 her. 
 
 ^ Posted at New York ? ' said Laura ; ^ who 
 can be there? 'Tis a man's writing, so it 
 cannot be from my old teacher, who could not 
 stay longer where slaves were kept, and who 
 was herself the most enslaved of anyone here.
 
 Laura. 6^ 
 
 No man would write to me but cousin " Gus," 
 and he is not in New York, and this is not his 
 writing. From whom can it be ? ' 
 
 At last the thou2:ht occurred to her that 
 perhaps she might learn by opening the let- 
 ter, which she did, and read the following 
 words : — 
 
 ' New York, July 12, 1850. 
 
 ' Miss Laura Lorney, — Do not puzzle 
 yourself with guessing which of your acquaint- 
 ances has sent you this letter, for you have 
 probably never seen me. I have seen you, and 
 I love. From the instant you first dawned 
 upon my sight I resolved to win you for a 
 wife. Nothing shall be left undone on my part 
 to accomplish this, and you being one of the 
 parties concerned, I write to acquaint you with 
 the resolution I have, which henceforward shall 
 be the foundation on which my soul shall work.
 
 64 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 You cannot, or should not, be offended at this 
 communication, for there is no harm in your 
 knowing that for your sake there is one striving 
 to be all that a man should be — that for you 
 there is one who will resist every temptation to 
 evil. 
 
 ' Pardon my egotism, for I am going to write 
 some particulars concerning myself. I am 
 twenty-two years of age, and above the average 
 height of men. I do not think my face is 
 handsome, but then I try to look good. 
 
 ' My education has been of that kind which 
 gives me more wisdom than learning, and I 
 hope that it will ever continue so. I have 
 never been spoiled by the kindness of friends, 
 or ruined by the prospect of wealth unearned 
 in the future. Fortune has ever favoured me 
 by making my circumstances such as make a 
 man. 
 
 * I shall soon write to you again. It is
 
 Laura. 65 
 
 necessary for me to do so in order that you 
 may become acquainted with me. 
 
 ^This is but an introductory epistle, and 
 cannot be as interesting as I hope to make 
 others, which you can read as you would the 
 last number of a lady's magazine, where you 
 read what is written by those with whom you 
 are not acquainted; and as long as my letters 
 contain nothinor offensive to a ri2:ht-thinkincr 
 girl, I entreat the favour of having them read. 
 Allow me to be your travelling correspondent, 
 contributing articles for your instruction and 
 amusement, and I will try to make my letters 
 worthy of being read. 
 
 ' I have ever been a wanderer on the earth, 
 without friends or home. Man can never live 
 as he should without some reason for doing so ; 
 hitherto I have had none, but I have now. 
 Since seeing you, I can understand that the 
 war of life is not all vanity and folly, that there 
 
 VOL. I. . P
 
 66 Andrew Deverel, 
 
 is something to be won in the strife, and that 
 life has happier thoughts than seeking how to 
 kill the present time. The sight of you has 
 wrought as great a change in me as the sun in 
 spring gives to earth after the winter. To me 
 the world and life were once only worth three 
 meals per day, and sometimes not that. I met 
 with yoUj and now view the world as one vast 
 field where man can earn happiness by pleasant 
 toil. Life has become a gleam of heaven, and 
 the world seems illuminated with hope — the 
 hope of winning you.' 
 
 There was something in this letter that 
 Laura could not but admire. That admiration 
 might have been caused by the novelty of 
 receiving such a letter from one she had never 
 seen.
 
 6; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SPECULATIONS. 
 
 Andeew Deverel did not go to the mines to 
 dig for gold ; knowing that the gold procured 
 there would eventually come to San Francisco, 
 he thought that some of it might honestly 
 become his own by remaining in the city. 
 Through the kindness of Mr. Grey, he had the 
 use of a few hundred dollars, and he resolved 
 to go into business. 
 
 After engaging a building in Montgomery 
 Street, he laid out his money in merchandise 
 from France, taking his purchase from a ship 
 V 2
 
 68 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 in the Bay. The day after commencing busi- 
 ness, he sold out and doubled his money. For 
 several weeks he amused himself by buying 
 cheap and selling dear; and with so much 
 judgement was this done, that he made much 
 more money without any place of business than 
 he could have done in a more regular and safe 
 way of trading. As his money increased, he 
 extended the amount of his speculations, and 
 one day he purchased a cargo of lumber from 
 Oregon. The next day San Francisco was a 
 field of smoking ruins. His cargo of plumber 
 was in the ship in the Bay, and the next day it 
 was sold for three times the amount he had paid 
 for it. 
 
 The Bay of San Francisco contained many 
 ships that could not put to sea for the want of 
 men. Some of these ships were for sale much 
 below their real value. Andrew became ac- 
 quainted with the owner of one vessel, a brig
 
 speculations, 69 
 
 of 250 tons, and was solicited by him to try to 
 sell it. 
 
 A few days after he met two old acquaint- 
 ances — French sailors with whom he had been 
 shipmate a few years before, when a cabin-boy 
 in a French ship. These two men had been 
 shipmates and companions ever since. They, 
 with four other Frenchmen — all sailors — had 
 just come down from the northern mines. They 
 had done well on the mines, but being unable 
 to work there to any advantage during the 
 winter months, they had come down to San 
 Francisco, with the intention of going to the 
 Sandwich Islands to pass a few weeks, and re- 
 turn to the mines in the spring. 
 
 Andrew proposed to them to help him to 
 take a ship to the Sandwich Islands. They had 
 intended to pay for their passage, but sailors 
 are easily dissuaded from that, and Andrew's 
 former shipmates being inclined to aid him, they
 
 *]0 Andrew DevereL 
 
 easily overcame the objections made by the 
 others. One of them had been the first mate 
 of the ship that brought them to California. 
 This man agreed to take the command; and 
 Andrew Deverel purchased the brig the same 
 day. Andrew was to do his duty as seaman 
 along with the others, and all were to eat at 
 the cabin table of the best provisions that 
 could be procured in the market. They were 
 to have a French cook, and an unlimited 
 supply of wine and cigars. Under these con- 
 ditions, the four Frenchmen agreed to take the 
 brig to Honolulu without wages. Andrew 
 knew, if he could get the brig to Honolulu, 
 he should there find plenty of natives and others 
 to work it back again. The brig was got ready 
 for the voyage with all possible expedition. 
 
 Since early boyhood Andrew had been 
 dependent on his own exertions. The wander- 
 ing life he had lived, and the hardships he
 
 speculations. y i 
 
 had endured, had early developed a strong and 
 active mind. He had a soul superior to the 
 combination of a few animal propensities, 
 governed by vanity, that forms the minds of 
 too many young men of the present day. 
 
 Time is not always the measure of existence. 
 Some people of twenty-five years have seen, 
 done, and learnt more than others of seventy- 
 five. Some men with active minds do more in 
 the way of thinking in one year than others do 
 in ten, although an inactive mind may think 
 itself ever employed. Andrew Deverel had 
 ever been in circumstances requiring the exer- 
 cise of all his faculties. 
 
 If he was so much superior to the majority 
 of young men, the reader may enquire, why 
 should we find him in the streets of his native 
 village, homeless, ill-clad, and hungry ? 
 
 His destitute state was not the result of pro- 
 fligacy or of idleness; but he had a restless love
 
 *]% Andrew D ever el, 
 
 of excitement and adventure; he preferred a 
 wandering life, and seeing different countries, 
 instead of following any fixed employment; he 
 had chosen to be * a rolling stone,' and to sacri- 
 fice all the ^moss' of wealth or comfort he 
 might have gained in a settled business. He 
 was manly and honourable, but he could not 
 bear control, and he revolted from everything 
 like routine. His peculiarities were precisely 
 those most likely to prevent him from ever be- 
 coming rich, and to land him occasionally on 
 the positive fact of destitution, but he could 
 always find something to which he could turn 
 his hand to help himself out of his inconveni- 
 ences ; he carried himself complete wherever he 
 went, and he considered his circumstances, 
 whether good or ill, as merely temporary. He 
 was tall, well made, lithe of limb, capable of 
 enduring great fatigue and privation ; with the 
 free and graceful carriage of an Indian chief, he
 
 speculations. y^ 
 
 had the grave composure of one. His manners 
 had the characteristic of an old civilisation — 
 viz. that of never seeming to be out of his place. 
 His face was decidedly handsome — a pair of 
 large grey eyes with long black eyelashes, 
 ^ which could look very kind and good in spite 
 of a certain haughtiness, due partly to the erect 
 manner in which he held his head ; a straight 
 powerful nose; a light brown beard and 
 moustache allowed his mouth to be only partly 
 seen. When he was in a good temper or a cheer- 
 ful mood, the expression of his whole counte- 
 ance was kind and gentle, but it was capable of 
 looking very sarcastic and fierce when he was 
 not pleased. His hair, which was brown like his 
 beard, fell back from his forehead over his head, 
 rather long, and without the slightest curl. He 
 had the pride of a dozen devils, a good deal of 
 perverseness, and though his nature was kind, 
 his temper was uncertain. Fortune would
 
 74 Andrew DevereL 
 
 have to humour him as well as to favour him, 
 if he were ever to become a rich man. 
 
 During the few days of the passage to the 
 Sandwich Islands, Andrew Deverel learnt the 
 practical part of navigation. 
 
 They had a very pleasant passage to Hono- 
 lulu, in which the labour of working the vessel 
 was only a pleasant recreation, and the hours 
 below were passed in conviviality that made 
 them regret the voyage was not of longer 
 duration. 
 
 Immediately on landing, the Frenchmen 
 commenced a life of dissipation, with all the 
 energy so peculiar to their countrymen in a 
 place like Honolulu.
 
 n 
 
 CHAPTEK VIIL 
 
 HENRY FROUD. 
 
 Andrew Deverel had immense energy when 
 once set going — although, like the swallow, he 
 found some diflSculty in getting on the wing — 
 but his indolence when quiescent was equal to 
 his energy when roused to activity. He lost 
 no time freighting his brig with provisions and 
 fruit, and found no difficulty in shipping some 
 runaway sailors, anxious to work their passage 
 to California. 
 
 The only knowledge he had of a ship had 
 been learned in fifteen months, when he was a 
 boy, and recently during the few days occupied
 
 76 Andrew DevereL 
 
 in going from San Francisco to Honolulu. He 
 took the command of the brig without hesitat- 
 ing, and made a short and pleasant run to within 
 twelve hours' sail of the Golden Gate, where he 
 took a pilot, who brought the brig safe to 
 anchor in San Francisco Bay. 
 
 The money made by this voyage equalled his 
 most sanguine hopes, yet he did not wish to 
 make another trip ; he was proud and perverse ; 
 he hated the thought of becoming a trader — he 
 would rather have been a farm labourer. He 
 had made a few thousand dollars, and could 
 afford to resume his pride. 
 
 Meeting with a fellow-passenger from New 
 York, who had been to the mines and made 
 some money, he entered into partnership with 
 him for continuing the trade to the islands. 
 His friend, whose name was Warren, agreed 
 to take the whole control of the business, and, 
 being an old sea-captain, was to command the 
 brig.
 
 Henry Froud, yy 
 
 Andrew Deverel then tried speculating in 
 water lots. The condition of things was abnor- 
 mal in California. 
 
 Labourins; men were erigaoced in mining. 
 Others were trading, speculating, or doing 
 nothing, but all were dependent on the impor- 
 tation of food for what they needed. 
 
 He knew that this state of affairs could not 
 long continue ; he foresaw that the attention of 
 more would soon be turned to agriculture, and 
 that a demand for real estate would be created 
 which would raise its value. 
 
 He invested his dollars in the purchase of 
 Mexican grants and established ranchos on the 
 public lands. In all his transactions he was 
 very fortunate, without resorting to the usual 
 deceptions and devices of land speculators. 
 
 Since leaving New York he had written 
 several times to Mr. Grey, and, in a letter 
 written before his voyage to the islands, he
 
 y8 Andrew T> ever eh 
 
 paid by draft the money Mr. Grey had lent 
 him. He had also written three letters to Laura 
 Lorney, one from Panama, another from San 
 Francisco, and the last from Honolulu. 
 
 Andrew looked upon wealth as the means 
 to an end. Had he not loved Laura Lorney, 
 wealth to him would not have been worth 
 the trouble of seeking, but love had been 
 awakened, and it governed every thought of 
 his soul. Others saw the ardour and per- 
 severance with which he pursued the acquisi- 
 tion of wealth — the knowledge and foresight 
 he displayed — but did not know his motive. 
 
 After being in California eighteen months, 
 he found himself worth one hundred and 
 twenty thousand dollars, exclusive of some 
 water lots, and a valuable rancho well stocked. 
 
 He then resolved to make no more specula- 
 tions, but to increase his capital in a slower 
 but surer way.
 
 He7try Froud, 79 
 
 While he had but little to lose and much to 
 gain, he speculated ; but when sure that his 
 object, or the first step towards it, was gained, 
 he became cautious. 
 
 He could loan money on * maiden security ' 
 at six per cent, per month, and could erect 
 buildings that would pay good interest on the 
 money invested on them, while the property 
 would be increasing in value. 
 
 He invested some of his money in this way ; 
 then, having some leisure time, and never having 
 been to the diggings, he resolved to pay them 
 a visit. 
 
 At Sonora, in Tuolumne county, he found 
 his old friend the Lieutenant, who initiated liim 
 into some of the mysteries of that wonderful 
 place. The Lieutenant was without money, and 
 in clebt. Having lately received letters from 
 his friends, offering great inducements, and 
 bright hopes of future prosperity and happiness
 
 8o Andrew Deverel. 
 
 to entice him home to one of the eastern 
 States, he was very anxious to go, but he had 
 not the means to pay his passage. 
 
 He was a gambler and a victim of gamblers. 
 Often had he resolved to refrain from the soul- 
 enthralling vice of play, but some indescribable 
 irresistible mental power, or want of power, 
 broke his strongest resolutions. 
 
 Many of the most contemptible characters 
 on earth are respectable men. They never 
 act upon the impulse of the moment, but 
 always deliberate, and act with a view to ap- 
 pearances. They make money to be respect- 
 able; give away a little in a public way for 
 charity, to be respectable ; marry to be respect- 
 able, and join a church for the same purpose. 
 
 The world is full of respectable people who 
 heed the opinion of others more than they do 
 their own self-respect. 
 
 Andrew Deverel could see many good traits
 
 Henry Froud. 8 1 
 
 in tKe Lieutenant, and could pity him for his 
 infatuated love of play. 
 
 Thinking, when amongst friends, and away 
 from the temptations so enticingly displayed in 
 California, his friend might be able to withstand 
 the allurements of play, he gave the Lieutenant 
 money to pay his debts and his passage home. 
 A steamer was to sail in three days, and the 
 next morning the Lieutenant started for San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Andrew Deverel then visited Campo-Seco, 
 a village about four miles to the west of Sonora. 
 Here he found his old protege and fellow- 
 passenger, Henry Froud, who was working one 
 of the best claims on Golden Hill, a few 
 hundred yards from the village. He seemed 
 the happiest person in California. 
 
 * I have made more than two thousand dollars,' 
 said he, ^and my claim Is not yet worked out. I 
 wish it were, for I have got all the money I want, 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 6 2 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 and I am impatient to get home ; but I do not 
 like to go, and leave gold in my claim, so I 
 suppose I must stay a few weeks longer^ for I 
 can do it, and still be home in time to pay the 
 mortgage.' 
 
 ^I am well pleased to learn that you have 
 been so fortunate,' said Andrew; 'the object for 
 which you have toiled deserves success.' 
 
 ' I knew that I should do well,' said Henry ; 
 *for God would not treat one so cruelly as to 
 let one leave home for the purpose I did, and 
 then make him unsuccessful.' 
 
 In the evening they took a walk through 
 the streets of the town. 
 
 Campo-Seco at that time was the scene of 
 much animation. It was the centre of a large 
 mining population, about half of whom were 
 Mexicans. Everyone seemed trying to make 
 a fortune in an hour. 
 
 In one of the gambling-houses, Henry found
 
 Henry Frond, 83 
 
 a man who was his partner in working the claim 
 on Golden Hill. He was much excited by 
 drink, and was betting at a Monte bank. His 
 purse, containing about 40 oz. of gold, was in 
 the bank, and 6 oz. which he had drawn of the 
 banker and lost, were marked up against it. 
 No other person was betting at that bank, and 
 the two gamblers at the table were in a fair 
 way for obtaining all in the purse. Henry- 
 went up to the man and entreated him to pay 
 what he had lost and leave. Not one man of 
 a hundred, under the same circumstances, would 
 have paid any attention to this request, but 
 this man, as though under some strange in- 
 fluence unknown, complied with it and left the 
 house. The "gamblers were as indis^nant at 
 Henry as though he had robbed them of the 
 purse of gold. 
 
 When they came out of the house, one of the 
 gamblers followed them. 
 o 2
 
 84 Andrew DevereL 
 
 * Young man,' said he, addressing Henry, *I 
 can beat you at running a foot-race,' 
 
 Henry knew the gambler intended by this 
 remark to commence a quarrel, and, determining 
 not to contradict him in anything he might say, 
 replied, 'I have not the least doubt of it.' 
 
 ^Do you doubt being in the state of Arken- 
 saw?' asked the gambler. 
 
 Henry did not answer, and made an effort to 
 move on, but was prevented by the gambler, 
 who stepped before him and said, 'Young 
 man, your education has been much neglected. 
 Allow me to give you a lesson that will enable 
 you hereafter to mind your own business.' 
 
 Seeing that a contest was inevitable, Henry 
 grasped the gambler's right hand, which was on 
 a revolver. In the struggle that ensued, the 
 gambler freed his hand, stepped back, and the 
 revolver was raised on a level with Henry's 
 breast. At that instant a blow from the strong
 
 Henry Froud, 85 
 
 arm of Andrew Deverel knocked him down ; 
 but the blow was given too late. As the man 
 fell the revolver was discharged, and a ball 
 entered Henry's left thigh. In the commotion 
 that followed, the gambler managed to escape. 
 
 Henry was taken to his home, where a 
 surgeon immediately attended him. After 
 examining the wound, the surgeon pronounced 
 his inability to extract the ball, and advised 
 that the wounded man should be sent to San 
 Francisco immediately. 
 
 The next morning Henry's share in the claim 
 on Golden Hill was sold for ;^400, a carriage 
 was engaged, and Andrew, accompanied by the 
 surgeon, started with him for Stockton. 
 
 On arriving at San Francisco, Henry was 
 removed from the boat to an hospital.
 
 86 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 On the day that the Lieutenant parted with 
 Andrew Deverel, he reached Stockton an hour 
 before the departure of the steamer for San 
 Francisco. To pass this hour he entered a 
 public-house. There was nothing wrong in 
 this, for the sun was shining strong, and he was 
 fatigued with a long ride. The public-houses 
 in California at that time contained gambling- 
 tables. This was not his fault, therefore let no 
 one blame him for entering a gambling-house. 
 ' I must not play,' thought he, ^ even suppos- 
 ing I had the wish to do so, which I have not.
 
 The hieutenanf s Fate, 87 
 
 I have sufficient money to take me home, and I 
 want no more. Under these circumstances it 
 would be folly for me to play.' 
 
 He stood near a Monte bank wat chinos the 
 betting, and while engaged in this became very 
 uneasy. Often he would find his hand in his 
 pocket, and would firmly withdraw it. This 
 was repeated till a purse was taken from his 
 pocket and held in his hand. 
 
 A man near him had won five bets in 
 succession, and on laying down his sixth stake 
 the Lieutenant could not refrain from putting 
 down a stake on the opposite card. 
 
 ' That man will not win this time,' said he, 
 ' and I should be a fool to lose the chance of 
 betting against him, and winning the price of a 
 passage down the river.' 
 
 The ten dollars that he laid on the table 
 were lost, and in trying to get back this sum he 
 lost forty more.
 
 88 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 By a violent mental exertion that nearly 
 upset the throne of reason, he left the house 
 and went on board the steamer. The next 
 morning he stepped ashore in San Francisco. 
 
 He was intending to take a cabin passage 
 home, and needed some clothing to make a 
 more respectable appearance than he then pre- 
 sented. 
 
 His clothing was purchased without much 
 economy, and on counting his money after- 
 wards, he found no more than Avould pay for 
 the passage ticket. 
 
 His expenses crossing the Isthmus would not 
 be less than twenty dollars, and this sum must 
 be raised in some way, or he could not go in 
 the cabin. 
 
 Of course he resolved to try obtaining this 
 small sum by betting. 
 
 He could lose one hundred dollars in trying
 
 The Liieutenanf s Fate, 89 
 
 to win what lie wished, and then have enough 
 left to go home as a steerage passenger. 
 
 The night following the departure of the 
 steamer for Panama, in which he had intended 
 to sail, the Lieutenant was wandering penni- 
 less through the streets of San Francisco. 
 
 The day after the ball had been extracted 
 from Henry Frond's leg, Andrew Deverel went 
 to the hospital to see him. 
 
 He stayed with him an hour, and promised to 
 come and see him the next morning. 
 
 He left the youth suffering much pain, but 
 happy with the hope of soon being able to start 
 for his home. 
 
 After leaving the hospital, Andrew walked 
 down to the sea-shore. While there, he saw 
 some men dragging a human body out of the 
 water. 
 
 Curiosity led him nearer, and he recognised
 
 go Andrew D ever el, 
 
 in the dead body his friend the Lieutenant, 
 whom he had supposed to be on his way home. 
 The Lieutenant, after wandering about the 
 streets homeless, friendless, and penniless, had 
 sought relief from mental agony in suicide. 
 
 Andrew had the body decently buried, and 
 took care that the coffin in which it was taken to 
 the grave returned not again in the hearse to 
 the city, to be again used in carrying other 
 bodies to the graveyard. 
 
 This was a necessary precaution, for when a 
 man died friendless and penniless, there was no 
 one who cared to go to the expense of several 
 ounces to secure en perpetuite a useless coffin. 
 
 Some strange things used to be performed in 
 California at that time — deeds that shocked the 
 sense of propriety of civilised people in other 
 parts of the world. People are too apt to 
 judge of the actions of others under all circum- 
 stances as they would of their own. There is
 
 The Lieut e?tanfs Fate, 91 
 
 no reason in this. Several thousand people 
 gathered from all parts of the earth, and 
 scrambling for gold in a place where there is no 
 domestic happiness, are not likely to act as they 
 would under some other circumstances. Their 
 crimes differ a little from the crimes of civilised 
 life, and civilised people are not tempted to 
 commit them ; but there is no less guilt in cities 
 that claim to be the heart of civilisation.
 
 gz Andrew DevereL 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 AUGUSTUS BLISS. 
 
 The day Laura Lorney received her first 
 letter from Andrew Deverel, she showed it to 
 her father, who read it and gave it back with- 
 out saying a word. Laura very naturally sup- 
 posed the business deserved more consideration, 
 and enquired what she should do if another 
 should come. 
 
 'Bring it unopened to me,' answered Mr. 
 Lorney, resuming his book. 
 
 ' Shall I tell mother about this letter ? ' 
 This was a question not easily answered; 
 but after some deliberation he replied, ' Cer-
 
 Augustus Bliss, 93 
 
 tainly, you must never receive letters unknown 
 to your mother; but you may never get 
 another, and the affair is of so little import- 
 ance, perhaps you had better not annoy your 
 mother with it. If you get any more letters, 
 bring them to me, and I will tell your mother,' 
 
 Six weeks after the date of her first letter, 
 Laura received another, dated from Panama. 
 This letter Mr. Lorney seemed much inter- 
 ested in reading. It contained an account 
 of his voyage. It was both amusing and 
 instructive, and Mr. Lorney, without any 
 hesitation, gave it to his daughter. 
 
 There was something so unusual in the 
 manner her unknown lover had chosen for 
 commencing an acquaintance and making him- 
 self agreeable, that Laura became much in- 
 terested in learning something more about 
 him. The romance of receiving letters and a 
 declaration of love from one she had never
 
 94 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 seen, touched her fancy. Thought upon this 
 subject with her bred thought, until she 
 learnt to think that her unknown lover really 
 had some claim on her for esteem. 
 
 Mrs. Lorney had a nephew, the son of a 
 much-loved sister who died while young. This 
 nephew, whose name was Augustus Bliss, in- 
 herited from his father a large plantation, and 
 the political, religious, and social rights of one 
 hundred and eighty people, and from his 
 mother ^50,000 in bank stock. 
 
 He is introduced to the reader in the twenty- 
 third year of his age, soon after he had gra- 
 duated, without distinction, at a Southern 
 college. 
 
 Augustus Bliss, dressed in petticoats, would 
 have made a charming appearance in a ball- 
 room or on a stage, for his features were small 
 and of feminine loveliness. His head was 
 small back of his ears, and much less in front
 
 Augustus Bliss, 95 
 
 of them. It was adorned with long dark hair, 
 upon which he devoted more time and care 
 than a mother should give to a child. His 
 voice, naturally weak and soft, was made 
 ridiculous by affectation in his endeavours to 
 speak unlike men of business, who speak plain 
 — with intelligence and decision. He resided 
 in New Orleans, but was not a ' fast young 
 man' of that city — not that good sense, but 
 want of manliness, prevented him from being 
 one. I would give the reader an adumbration 
 of his character, if possible ; but he had none, 
 good, bad, or indifferent. His mind was small 
 and weak, possessing not one strong sentiment 
 or propensity, unless it was an aversion to 
 action. He knew enough to eat when hungry, 
 and, like many men more intelligent, he often 
 drank when not thirsty. To him it might 
 with truth be said, by paraphrasing Shaks- 
 peare.
 
 g6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 * Thou hast nor life nor death, 
 But as it were an after-dinner sleep 
 Dreaming on both.' 
 
 Mrs. Lorneyhad long designed that Augustus 
 Bliss should marry Laura, on her arriving at a 
 suitable age, and had often communicated her 
 wishes on this subject to her husband. As 
 circumstances did not demand his imme- 
 diate attention to the business, he had ever 
 listened to her schemes without coming to any 
 conclusion about them. 
 
 Augustus Bliss passed much of his time at 
 the residence of Mr. Lorney, and his visits 
 were always received with much pleasure by 
 Laura, who was ever amused with the eccen- 
 tricities of her ^Cousin Gus;' but Andrew 
 Deverel need have had no fear of Mr. Bliss as 
 a rival. 
 
 ^ Cousin Gus,' said Laura, one day, ' why 
 do you not go to California, and see, do, and
 
 Augustus Bliss. gy 
 
 learn something ? I know not how a young 
 man can be content with such an existence as 
 yours.' 
 
 ^ Whee, Lawree, you alawm me ! I knew 
 not that I was exyeesting in meesery that 
 should make me deescontented.' 
 
 ^ Certainly you are not, if you are ignorant 
 of it ; but if I was a young man I would see 
 the world and do something. Your only care 
 is for your dress, and how to kill time. Surely 
 you cannot think that burning a few leaves of 
 tobacco, and pushing little ivory balls round 
 a table with a stick, is sufficient business for 
 one of the "lords of creation?"' 
 
 ^ Queet suffeecient, I asshu you, and even 
 that often makes me veera weera. Let those 
 eggsert themselves who are compelled to action 
 by neceesity, which I am nut.' 
 
 ^ The less necessity there is for your doing 
 anything would add to your merit for what 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 Andrew DevereL 
 
 you miglit accomplish. Those who have 
 plenty of time and money are those who 
 should accomplish great things.' 
 
 ' What would you have them do ? ' 
 
 ^ I would have them do something that 
 would benefit themselves and others. There 
 is plenty of such work all over the world, 
 and if I was a man I would find and do it.' 
 
 ' You are a young gurl now, and have 
 much to leearn. I will call Miss Orr, who 
 will show^ you this subject by the light of 
 wisdom. The day is too warm for me to hold 
 an argument.' 
 
 Miss Orr, who was near, engaged in reading, 
 on being invited to take a part in the con- 
 versation, joined them. 
 
 Miss Orr, who was twenty-three years of 
 age, and not ill-looking, was born and edu- 
 cated in the city of Boston, and then filled 
 in Mr. Lorney's household the situation of
 
 August us Bliss. gg 
 
 teacher to Laura. Besides tlils occupation, 
 which she had the will and ability to perform 
 in a creditable manner, she was always ready 
 to do a little business for herself, in the way 
 of catching some young man whose appearance 
 and character were good, and who could sup- 
 port her in good society. She understood 
 Augustus Bliss, and would agree with him in 
 all his opinions. Some men are annoyed at 
 having others coincide with them, but this is 
 never the case with a man of a lazy mind. 
 Guided by this knowledge, Miss Orr joined 
 the conversation, which Augustus Bliss re- 
 signed to her, and listened with indolent satis* 
 faction to her improved edition of his own 
 opinions. Laura listened with impatience, and 
 teased her kitten. 
 
 A few weeks after the receipt of the letter 
 from Panama, Laura began to expect another. 
 She was not disappointed. She read it with 
 
 H 2
 
 loo Andrew Deverel, 
 
 much interest, and thouglit that the author 
 was such a man as she could like, and she 
 wished to see him merely to know whether 
 she was right in the idea she had formed of 
 his appearance.
 
 lOI 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE LORNEYS GO TO EUEOPE, AND HAVE 
 A FELLOW-TRAVELLER. 
 
 Mr. Bliss had a slave, named Hannibal. 
 He was a quadroon, and had received some 
 education. He had a handsome appearance 
 and a well-bred deportment. He had been 
 given to Augustus Bliss when they were both 
 children, and they had been playfellows. 
 Augustus had always treated him kindly, 
 and Hannibal had great influence over his 
 master, to whom he was sincerely attached. 
 
 It was the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Lorney 
 to visit England, and Augustus Bliss was in-
 
 loz A?idrew D eve)' el, 
 
 vitecl to accompany them. He gladly accepted 
 the invitation, and declared his intention of 
 taking his 'boy Hannibal' with him. The 
 party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Lorney, 
 Laura, Miss Orr, Augustus Bliss, and Hanni- 
 bal, proceeded to New York, and thence sailed 
 for England ; though, as the Great Exhibition 
 was open, Mrs. Lorney was terribly afraid 
 lest they should be taken for exhibitors. 
 
 Fellow-passengers with Mr. Lorney and his 
 party in the steamer to Liverpool were the 
 two brothers Grey — the New York merchant 
 being accompanied by his daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Lorney had a great horror of forming 
 new acquaintances, and, notwithstanding the 
 democracy that must to a certain extent 
 exist amongst those who walk the same deck 
 and sit at the same table, she was not inclined 
 to be sociable. 
 
 Mr. Lorney became acquainted with the two
 
 The Llorneys In England. 103 
 
 Greys, and found them very intelligent men, 
 and, what to him seemed more remarkable, 
 they were very much like gentlemen, although 
 they were Yankees and men of business. 
 
 Notwithstanding Mrs. Lorney's advice to 
 the contrary, Laura became quite intimate with 
 Miss Mary Grey, the merchant's daughter, who 
 was an animated, blue-eyed, rosy-looking girl 
 about her own age. 
 
 Augustus Bliss much amused Mr. Grey by 
 his airs, and the opinion he expressed that 
 though gentlemen visited other parts of Europe, 
 \ only tradesmen ever went to England. Mr. 
 Grey used to put him down in a way that 
 roused his wrath, indolent as he was, but he 
 was soothed by the attention with which Miss 
 Orr listened to him, and he thought her much 
 more agreeable and in every way superior to 
 his cousin Laura. Although he intended to 
 comply with his aunt's wishes and marry her
 
 104 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 some time, he wished it was Miss Orr who was 
 in question instead of Laura. 
 
 John Grey became very friendly with Laura 
 and Miss Orr, and his peculiarities greatly 
 amused them. 
 
 One day they were trying to annoy him 
 for being unmarried. 
 
 The reason he gave for his unfortunate con- 
 dition was, that only one man in a thousand 
 was worthy of a good wife, and that he was 
 not so vain as to suppose himself that one, or 
 so selfish as to claim what he did not deserve. 
 
 ^ Are the chances of our getting bad hus- 
 bands really as great as you represent ? ' asked 
 Laura. 
 
 ' They certainly are.' 
 
 ^ Heaven protect us ! ,' exclaimed Mary in 
 affected alarm. ^ What shall we do ? ' 
 
 ' That question,' said Mr. Grey, ^ deserves 
 your seribus attention. Unfortunately, I know
 
 The Lomeys in England, 105 
 
 of but one young man who is worthy of either 
 of you.' 
 
 *^ You mean, uncle, that, fortunately, you are 
 acquainted with a young man who is worthy 
 of one of us,' said Mary. 
 
 ' Yes, that is what I mean. The other will 
 have to trust to fortune.' 
 
 ' Who is he ? ' ' Where is he ? ' 
 
 * What is his name ? ' ' Is he handsome ? ' 
 
 * Tell us all about him.' 
 
 ^ He is young and good-looking, speaks five 
 languages, has seen much of the world, and is 
 now engaged in seeing more. He has honour 
 and pride of the right kinds — things difficult 
 to find in young men of the present age. He 
 is brave, and has seen active service in the 
 armies of his country. He is not vain, self- 
 ish, or avaricious. He has energy, firmness, 
 decision, and all that ennobles the mind of
 
 io6 Andrew T) ever eh 
 
 ^ What a prize ! ' exclaimed Mary. ^ He is 
 the one for whom I have been looking.' 
 
 * You have not told us his name/ said Laura. 
 
 ' His name is Andrew Deverel. What do 
 you think of it ? ' 
 
 ' A very pretty name. Give him to me, 
 uncle/ said Mary. ^ You know I have no 
 lover.' 
 
 ' Mr. Grey/ said Laura, ^I too have no lover.' 
 
 ^ I must settle this by lot,' said the bachelor, 
 which he proceeded to do in a way that enabled 
 Laura to win. 
 
 ^ When shall I see my prize ? ' asked Laura, 
 apparently much pleased at her good fortune. 
 
 / Not within one year, but probably within 
 two. I shall write to acquaint him with his 
 fate.' 
 
 John Grey, on hearing the name of Lorney, 
 and learning that the family were from New 
 Orleans, supposed Mr. Lorney to be the father
 
 The Lorneys hi E?igla7id, 107 
 
 of the girl with whom Andrew Deverel was 
 so much interested. This supposition was 
 confirmed on finding that the daughter's name 
 was Lauraj and on seeing her he gave Andrew 
 credit for much taste. 
 
 It is not necessary in this story to go into 
 the details of all that the Greys and the 
 Lorneys saw and did during their sojourn in 
 England ; they were fortunate in securing com- 
 fortable accommodation, and Mrs. Lorney was 
 surprised to find that Mr. Grey and his brother 
 knew more people in good society than she 
 did, which gave her a respect for them although 
 they were in business. John Grey did not 
 fail to write to Andrew Deverel to tell him of 
 his meeting with the Lorneys and his opinion 
 of the family in general, and of Laura in par- 
 ticular. 
 
 The Lorneys remained in England for three 
 months. The exquisite Augustus did not remain
 
 io8 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 with them all that time ; he soon grew tired of 
 England and went to Paris, and thence to 
 Italy. Occasionally he wrote to Laura, who 
 found his letters very different to those of her 
 unknown correspondent. The Lorneys did 
 not visit the Continent, but returned direct to 
 America, as Mrs. Lorney's health seemed fail- 
 ing, and she wished to go home. 
 
 After her return she became weaker, and 
 though no danger was apprehended by those 
 around her, she herself believed she should 
 not recover. Her favourite scheme to marry 
 her daughter to Augustus Bliss was much on 
 her mind, and she greatly regretted his absence. 
 She endeavoured to extract a promise from 
 Laura that she would accept him, but Laura 
 was firm, and would only promise to be guided 
 by her father and marry no one without his 
 consent. With this Mrs. Lorney was obliged 
 to be content, and endeavoured to impress on
 
 The Lorneys in K7tgland. 109 
 
 her husband the great advantages of the match. 
 Poor Mrs. Lorney grew worse, and though her 
 friends thought her a silly woman, her husband 
 and her daughter both loved her, and her 
 death was a great sorrow to both. She had been 
 to the best of her power an affectionate Tvife 
 and mother. Laura felt her loss deeply, for, 
 though mothers may be silly, there is no other 
 relation like them.
 
 no Andre'w T> ever eh 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE EXPEDITION TO NEW GUINEA. 
 
 The excitement of making money soon sub- 
 sided with Andrew Deverel, and his old love 
 of seeino- strangle lands came over him. 
 
 He had once been acquainted with a seaman 
 who had lived some time on one of the Pelew 
 Islands, and had been a few times along the east 
 coast of Papua or New Guinea. On this island 
 he with three companions had resided several 
 days, and had narrowly escaped being killed by 
 the natives. The description which the seaman 
 had given of his adventures and of what he had 
 seen, created in Andrew's mind a desire to visit
 
 Expedition to New Gimiea. 1 1 1 
 
 that part of the world. Some knowledge of 
 the place obtained from other sources had 
 strengthened this desire. He knew that it had 
 long been the opinion of all who had any 
 knowledge of the subject, that New Guinea is 
 one of the richest countries on the globe, and 
 the least improved. Some have thought that 
 the Dapnau Mountains in New Guinea were 
 auriferous, and the discovery of gold in New 
 South Wales, though many hundreds of miles 
 away, added to the strength of that suppo- 
 sition. As early as the year 1643, Tasman 
 saw evidence for believing there was gold in 
 New Guinea ; Le Maire, Dampier, and others 
 who had better opportunities of knowing than 
 Tasman, were also of his opinion. 
 
 Andrew Deverel did not wish to return to 
 the eastern side of the continent before he 
 arrived at the age of twenty-five years. 
 There was still another to be passed in some
 
 115 Aiidrew D ever el. 
 
 way, and lie resolved to visit New Guinea. 
 That island had been represented to him as one 
 bordered with pearls and tortoise-shells that lie 
 sparkling on its shores, and as one where the 
 birds of paradise fly over forests of sandal wood 
 — nutmeg trees and spice groves mil.es in extent. 
 Whether these accounts were true or not, the 
 island had the charm of being but little known. 
 He determined to explore, if possible, a portion 
 of the interior. "With this object in view, he 
 concluded a partnership with Captain Warren, 
 who commanded his brig trading to Honolulu, 
 and entered into other articles of copartnership 
 for the intended voyage, allowing Warren to 
 continue in the command of the vessel. He 
 easily found fifteen men who were willing to 
 join an expedition that had the attractions of 
 danger, novelty, excitement, and uncertainty. 
 
 Two days before the brig was to sail, he 
 went to the hospital to see Henry Froud.
 
 Expedition to New G^ihiea. 113 
 
 Henry's leg was so much better, that Andrew 
 thought it advisable to see him start for his 
 home before he sailed on his exploring expedi- 
 tion. He had him removed from the hospital 
 to a steamer bound for Panama. When Henry 
 heard of the expedition on which his friend 
 Andrew was about to start, his desire to go 
 with him was counteracted by the stronger 
 desire of seeing his friends ; but his desire to do 
 both was so strong, that his eyes filled with 
 tears to know that he could not be in two 
 places at the same time. 
 
 Before leaving San Francisco, Andrew 
 Deverel purchased twenty-five Colt's revolvers, 
 as many rifles, and two guns known as six- 
 pounders. He also for a few dollars pur- 
 chased a library of second-hand books, for the 
 amusement of his crew during the voyage. 
 He was aware that the majority of the men 
 who were to accompany him were adventurers 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 I T 4 Andrew D ever eh 
 
 who would be controlled with difficulty. Each 
 of them had some money, and, as one means of 
 preventing disturbances, gambling aboard of 
 the brig was strictly prohibited. All united in 
 forming rules, which each was compelled to 
 obey. There are men who will obey laws they 
 have helped to make, yet will take pleasure in 
 disobeying all restrictions imposed upon them 
 by others. 
 
 Those who have followed gold-hunting for 
 any length of time are more inclined to act in 
 this way than men following any other occupa- 
 tion ; for in the early days of gold-digging, in 
 any country, they are more often called on to 
 form opinions of right and wrong, and the 
 independent life of the miner makes him 
 submit unwillingly to requirements he does 
 not need, and which he generally regards as 
 something intended to fetter thoughts and 
 deeds.
 
 Expedition to New Guinea. 115 
 
 The brig was cleared through the Custom 
 House in San Francisco for Manilla, to call at 
 Honolulu, and sailed one pleasant Sunday 
 morning through the ^Golden Gate' on its 
 way to the wide open sea. 
 
 At Honolulu provisions were taken aboard 
 for a long voyage, and a crew was shipped for 
 working the vessel. Six more men there vo- 
 lunteered to go with them, and were accepted. 
 All who were not shipped as seamen, were 
 given a free passage, but no wages. After 
 visiting New Guinea they were to be landed 
 at Sydney, New South Wales. 
 
 Andrew Deverel did not intend to lose 
 money in this voyage ; and, to pay the expenses 
 of it, some goods were shipped in San Fran- 
 cisco, and more were to be purchased in 
 Manilla, suitable for trade in the Arafura Sea. 
 They had a quick and pleasant passage to 
 Manilla, in which nothing occurred worthy of 
 I 2
 
 1 1 6 Andrew Deverel 
 
 record. On arriving in Manilla the passengers 
 plunged into all the dissipations of that gay- 
 city, with energy only known to gold-diggers 
 released from the confinement of a ship. 
 During their stay in Manilla, Captain Warren 
 was busy in purchasing knives, toys, cheap 
 jewellery, and other articles to be used in trade 
 for sandal wood, shells, mother-of-pearl, and 
 spices. Before sailing from Manilla, eleven 
 men joined them with the intention of some 
 time reaching the new gold-fields of New 
 South Wales. Three of the men who came 
 with them from San Francisco remained 
 in Manilla. One of them, an Irishman, had 
 won the affections of a young widow, whom 
 he married, and obtained a small fortune. 
 Another was a Scotchman, who found a good 
 opportunity of going into business with a 
 countryman, and, his national prudence being 
 stronger than his love for adventures, he was
 
 Expedition to New Guinea. 117 
 
 reluctant to go any farther. The third was 
 a man named Warnock, from the State of 
 Arkansas. He had got into a row in a gam- 
 bling-house — used his bowie knife, and was 
 left behind in the hands of the authorities. 
 Deverel felt much regret at leaving him behind, 
 for he knew that Warnock was a man on 
 whom he could have depended in the hour of 
 danger. He had strength, courage, and deci- 
 sion, with great skill in the use of offensive 
 weapons.
 
 1 1 8 Andrew DevereL 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE RETURN OF HENRY FROUD. 
 
 Before we return to Andrew Deverel we 
 may relate the return home of Henry Froud. 
 
 The father of Henry Froud lived in the 
 western part of the State of New York, not far 
 from the Falls of Niagara. He occupied a small 
 farm of eighty acres, about half of which was 
 in an imperfect state for cultivation. A glance 
 at the way the farm was managed, and at the 
 dwelling-house and barn, revealed the know- 
 ledge that the proprietor was not in affluent 
 circumstances. Poverty was written in un- 
 mistakable signs on everything.
 
 Return of Henry Frond. 119 
 
 The fences, buildings, and all things on the 
 farm, had the appearance of belonging to an 
 habitual drunkard, but Henry Froud, Sen., was 
 never intoxicated. 
 
 It is the month of January, a time too un- 
 pleasant in the State of New York to remain 
 long out where the ground is clothed with two 
 feet of snow, and we will walk in, although the 
 appearance of the house is not very inviting. 
 In the corner by the fireplace sits a man in the 
 prime of life, yet feeble in mind and body by 
 afflictions of both. 
 
 A woman with sad and careworn appearance 
 was bustling about the room, and three ragged 
 children were on the floor, amusing themselves 
 with a basket full of young cats. 
 
 The family were not all present. 
 
 The eldest son had absconded when affliction 
 came to the father, and they knew not where
 
 I20 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 he was. The second son and eldest girl were 
 at the district school. 
 
 The bodily infirmity of Mr. Froud was not 
 the most serious calamity under which he 
 suffered. His home was to be sold at a 
 sheriff's sale the next day. The last sum of 
 interest due on the mortgage on his farm, had 
 not been paid, and proceedings had been taken 
 that would soon turn his family from a home. 
 
 He could think of but little else than of a 
 future home in the alms-house for himself and 
 family, and of what he called the ^ ingratitude ' 
 of his son. 
 
 'We shall soon be there,' said he. 'The 
 farm is to be sold to-morrow, and they will not 
 allow us to stay here long after. For myself 
 I would not care, but, Mary, to see you and the 
 children in the poor-house will drive me mad.' 
 
 * Henry ! Henry ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Froud, 
 ' do not talk in that way. You will break my
 
 Return of He?iry Froud. 12,1 
 
 heart. Do not try to make me think that our 
 son whom we loved so well is ungrateful. I 
 believe that he left home with the intention 
 of doing something to aid us. He has been 
 unfortunate and cannot return. 
 
 * He may be dead. Oh, Henry, do not speak 
 ill of him!' 
 
 The two children returned half frozen from 
 the school, and nearly walked into the fire to 
 get warm. 
 
 ' I do n't want to go to school any more,' said 
 the boy. * My clothes are so old and bad that 
 I am ashamed.' 
 
 ' Pride on the road to the poor-house I ' 
 observed his father. 
 
 ' ' Tain't all pride, father,' said the boy, * for 
 I nearly freeze in going to school and back.' 
 
 * Do not complain, brother,' said his sister, 
 who always looked and talked like a little rag- 
 covered angel. * Your clothes are better than
 
 1^3 Andrew DevereL 
 
 that poor lame fellow's we passed on the way 
 home. Poor man, how cold he must be, dressed 
 so bad, and walking so slow with his crutch ! ' 
 
 She knew not that the ^ poor fellow ' she had 
 passed, had called at the public-house not far 
 away, and had borrowed his rags for the pur- 
 pose of gratifying a whim. 
 
 There was a knock at the door. It was 
 opened, and Henry Froud, Jun., covered with 
 rags and using a crutch, entered the room. 
 
 Mrs. Froud and the children were wild with 
 joy. Mr. Froud remained in his seat by the 
 fire. 
 
 ' Father, cannot you welcome me home?' said 
 Henry, going up to him. 
 
 * Had you come a day later,' said his father, 
 ' we should have no home of our own to wel- 
 come you at. The sheriff sells the farm to- 
 morrow, and you are another one for the 
 poor-house.'
 
 Return of Hemy Frond. 1 23 
 
 Mr. Froud did feel some joy at the return of 
 his son, and could not conceal it. 
 
 ' Henry,' he continued, ^ why did you leave 
 us ? Tell me the truth.' 
 
 ' I saw that I could do no good here,' said 
 Henry, ^ and I wanted to do something to help 
 you. I could not stop here day after day doing 
 no good and seeing times getting worse. Do not 
 blame me. I did what I thought was right.' 
 
 ^ I knew it. I told you so,' said his mother, 
 again embracing him. 
 
 ' I will believe you, my boy,' said Mr" Froud, 
 taking his son's hand ; ' but tell me, what ails 
 your leg?' 
 
 'It was shot accidentally. A man who 
 intended to shoot me through the body acci- 
 dentally hit my leg, because a friend of mine 
 gave him a blow at the time he fired; but it 
 will soon be all right again.'
 
 12,4 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 ' Why, you have been in California ! ' said 
 his oldest brother. 
 
 ' Yes ; I have just come from there, and am 
 happy to have reached home alive.' 
 
 ' My poor boy, do n't stand any longer, but 
 come and sit down,' said his mother, placing a 
 chair before the fire. 
 
 'And is it possible you have been to 
 California ? ' asked his father. 
 
 * California ! ' exclaimed each of his brothers 
 and sisters, looking at him with as much 
 astonishment as though he had come from 
 another world. 
 
 * Where is the sheriff's sale to be held ? ' 
 asked Henry, taking a seat. 
 
 ' On the steps of the Court-house in 
 Lockport,' said his father with a sigh. 
 
 ' Give me your bundle, Henry,' said Mrs. 
 Froud, extending her hand. 
 
 Henry placed on her hand a parcel tied in a
 
 Return of Henry Froud, 12,^ 
 
 handkerchief, which being much heavier than 
 she expected, she let it fall to the floor. There 
 was no mistaking the cause of the jingling 
 sound heard by the falling of that parcel. 
 
 From father, mother, brothers, and sisters, 
 there was a simultaneous exclamation of the 
 word ^ Money ! ' 
 
 A dish was brought, and into it, from a 
 canvas bag, Henry poured four hundred and 
 twenty half-eagles. 
 
 Henry Froud, Sen., became a new man. He 
 was able to go to town the next day and pay 
 the mortgage, and he was never known to use 
 the word ' Poor-house ' as^ain.
 
 1^6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 NEW GUINEA — AN UNEXPLORED PAEADISE. 
 
 During the passage from Manilla to that 
 point on the north-east coast of New Guinea 
 where they wished to land, the weather was 
 pleasant, but, owing to light winds, they were 
 twelve days in making it. 
 
 The coast' was made in the evening, and the 
 brig ' laid off and on ' until morning, when 
 it was run close in near the outlet of a small 
 river, and both anchors were dropped. 
 
 During the day, they were busy in prepar- 
 ing small packs of provisions and other things
 
 New Guinea, izy 
 
 necessary for the party who were going to the 
 interior. 
 
 At noon, they were visited by four natives, 
 who appeared friendly. Presents were made 
 them, and, contrary to the advice of some, 
 they were allowed to depart. 
 
 The exploring party was to consist of Andrew 
 Deverel and twenty others. Each was to 
 carry a rifle, a bowie knife, a Colt's revolver, 
 and ammunition for not less than one hundred 
 shots. 
 
 Besides arms, each one was to carry twenty 
 pounds of provisions for himself, a roll of blan- 
 kets for his bed, and some article, such as an 
 axe, pick, or shovel, to be for the use of all. 
 
 Captain Warren was to remain in the ship, 
 with nine men besides the officers and crew, 
 and was to keep a constant watch against being 
 surprised by the natives; and to be always 
 ready on a short notice to seek a farther
 
 128 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 ' offing/ if necessary for the safety of the brig. 
 The next morning at nine o'clock, the ex- 
 pedition landed and started inland, keeping 
 alonor the bank of the little river. 
 
 The boats returned to the vessel, leaving 
 three men on shore, who wished to stop for 
 some shooting. 
 
 In the afternoon a boat was sent ashore for 
 the three men, but they could not be found. 
 Search was made in the vicinity of where they 
 were left, and shots were fired, but the boat 
 had to return without them. Captain Warren 
 had a gun fired, and an hour afterwards sent 
 the boat ashore again, but the men did not 
 make their appearance. 
 
 The night came on very dark, and a light 
 was hoisted on the brig, as a signal for the boat 
 to return. 
 
 All were eager to hear the man's adventures, 
 which had been sufficiently perilous. It would
 
 New Guinea, 1 29 
 
 seem that he and his two companions pro- 
 ceeded about three miles into the interior, 
 going very slowly, and pausing occasionally to 
 shoot some most beautifully coloured birds, 
 quite different from any they had ever seen 
 before. At this point in his story a sailor, 
 called * Arkansas ' from the name of his native 
 State, started up and said: — *i\.nd did you 
 shoot those birds ? You deserved to be shot 
 yourselves!' * Suddenly,' continued the man, 
 ' about thirty blacks armed with spears and 
 stones rushed upon us and attacked us.' 
 * Served you right ! ' cried Arkansas grimly. 
 
 The man did not speak, but he looked black 
 at this second interruption, and Captain Warren, 
 seeing Arkansas inclined to be quarrelsome, 
 interfered, and bade him allow the man to pro- 
 ceed. Arkansas muttered, loud enough to be 
 heard, something about ' a cockney sportsman,' 
 which enraged the other so much that, exliausted 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 as he was, he sprang up and offered to fight 
 him with his own weapon, a bowie knife, ' and 
 their left hands tied together.' 
 
 This interruption to the narrative, which had 
 excited the curiosity of all on board, was 
 received with indignation, and Arkansas was 
 summarily silenced. 
 
 The sailor then related how one of his com- 
 panions, named Leighton, had been struck 
 with four spears. He and his other companion 
 then ran for their lives, firing at the blacks, 
 but their numbers seemed to increase. At 
 last the two men got separated ; the narrator 
 succeeded in reaching the shore, where he hid 
 himself amongst some bushes. Other blacks 
 had, however, spread themselves about the 
 shore, and he did not dare to show himself, nor 
 yet to fire upon them. At length, when it grew 
 dusk, he saw the light hoisted for a signal, and, 
 knowing that the tide had then turned, he took
 
 New Guinea. 131 
 
 off his clothes, crawled to the shore, and swam 
 off to the vessel, hardly conscious how he 
 reached it. His concluding information was 
 startling : — 
 
 ' I afterwards heard parties of blacks coming 
 from all directions, and I have no doubt but 
 what they intend taking the vessel. I think 
 the reason why they did not molest the boat's 
 crew was, fear that the brio; would sail during 
 the night. I was within hearino* of them for 
 several hours, and during that time they were 
 very busy at something, probably building 
 rafts.' 
 
 All hands were immediately called, the 
 anchors hove, and the brig taken about two 
 miles farther out. 
 
 In the morning, three green water snakes 
 were found on the deck. They had crawled 
 up the cables, and through the hawse-holes. 
 
 The snakes were killed by Arkansas. While 
 K 2
 
 133 Andrew DevereL 
 
 throwing them over, he saw several more in 
 the water. ■ 
 
 He went up to the man with whom he had 
 tried to have a quarrel a few hours before, 
 and said, ' Do you say that you shot some of 
 the natives ? ' 
 
 * Yes,' said the man gruffly. 
 
 ' And you swam a mile through a sea of 
 snakes — and did it all alone ?' 
 
 ^ Yes; so it seems.' 
 
 ' Well, here 's my hand,' said Arkansas, * but 
 do n't ao-ain shoot the most beautiful-coloured 
 birds you ever saw. There is manliness enough 
 about you to seek some amusement more noble 
 than killing insects.' 
 
 Arkansas was not a bad man; his com- 
 panion knew this, gave his hand, and the two 
 became friends. 
 
 Captain Warren despatched a boat towards 
 the shore, to learn what the natives were about.
 
 New Guhiea, 133 
 
 When the boat returned, the second mate 
 reported that there were not less than one 
 hundred and fifty natives on the beach, and that 
 they were launching rafts. 
 
 Captain Warren would not go out of sight 
 of land and leave the party on shore at the 
 mercy of savages ; yet the danger of remain- 
 ing where he was, would leave but little chance 
 for him to aid those ashore. 
 
 While deliberating what to do, he gave 
 orders to have the two guns loaded with grape 
 shot, and made other preparations for defence. 
 While they were completed, the Captain de- 
 cided on going farther in. The party on shore 
 might be in trouble and wish to come on 
 board. 
 
 The brig was then taken within a mile of 
 the mouth of the river, and within a cable's 
 length of the perpendicular shore on the north 
 side of the cove, where the anchors were again
 
 134 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 dropped. His reason for anchoring so near 
 the high land was the hope of being able in 
 some way to communicate with the party on 
 shore, should they be near and wanting assist- 
 ance. 
 
 The first officer proposed that they should 
 ru nthe brig farther in and disperse the blacks 
 with the two guns, then land a party to try 
 and find Green, and learn whether the others 
 were in trouble ; but Captain Warren thought 
 the chances would be greatly against the few 
 who could be spared to go ashore ever re- 
 turning. 
 
 *It would be folly,' said he, 'to take the 
 great risk of losing six men for the very small 
 chance of finding one. Moreover, as long as 
 the blacks are intent on taking the brig, they 
 will allow the party on shore to remain un- 
 molested. Should we disperse them, they will
 
 New Guinea. 135 
 
 turn their attention to the others, and over- 
 power them by numbers.' 
 
 The natives appeared in great force on the 
 shore at the entrance of the river, and were 
 evidently waiting for the tide to turn in their 
 favour in order to commence the attack.
 
 1^6 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE EXPLORING PARTY, AND WHAT THEY 
 SAW IN THE ISLAND OF NEW GUINEA. 
 
 Meanwhile the exploring party, after follow- 
 ing up the stream for about five miles, found 
 that it was leading them more to the north than 
 they wished to go, and some proposed to leave- 
 it ; but it was decided to continue their course 
 by the river, as that would insure them plenty 
 of fresh water and game. 
 
 They soon after met a party of about 
 twenty blacks, who fled at their approach. 
 A mile farther on, they came to a village of 
 thirty or forty huts, from which men, women.
 
 The 'Exploring Party, 137 
 
 and clilklren were flying into the bush. They 
 passed these without disturbing anything, and 
 soon after called a halt for dinner. 
 
 The portion of the island they had seen was 
 very beautiful. Groves of nutmeg trees and 
 clove bushes were frequent. The Dutch 
 would have found plenty of business had they 
 tried to destroy the spice trees there, as, 
 according to Dampier and others, they have 
 tried to do on other islands. 
 
 Never before had our hero so fully realised 
 how incomplete was man's task of subduing 
 and tilling the earth as now, when he found 
 himself in a land so beautiful and fertile, 
 knowing it was so large and all a wilderness. 
 The scene before him was such as to excite 
 profound admiration. He could not but won- 
 der why civilised men should have neglected 
 the land he saw before him, and have chosen 
 instead to contend against Nature for domi-
 
 138 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 nion on lands where a sharp and constant 
 struggle is required to maintain a bare ex- 
 istence. 
 
 While preparing their dinner they were 
 surprised by seeing Green slowly coming 
 towards them, and walking with much diffi- 
 culty — with a spear in his leg. All jumped 
 up and gathered around him, each one asking 
 questions. 
 
 ' Dry up !' said Green. ' How can I answer 
 twenty-one men, all asking questions at the 
 same time ? Some of you try and get this 
 spear out of my leg, and I will amuse myself 
 during the time by telling you all about it; 
 but first give me a drink of brandy, to help 
 me undergo the operation.' 
 
 One of the men, called Missouri, stepped for- 
 ward and with his bowie knife cut off the leg 
 of the garment enclosinoj the wounded member. 
 He then examined the spear, the point of which
 
 The Explorhig Party. 139 
 
 was sticking out of the opposite side of the 
 leg from where It went In. 
 
 ^ This spear can't be pulled back the way 
 it entered. It must pass right through the 
 leg. Alabama/ said he to one of the men 
 near him, ^ hold the handle of the spear level 
 with the point.' 
 
 Alabama obeyed, and Missouri proceeded to 
 cut the beam of the spear close to the wound. 
 This was soon done, and the point was pulled 
 out on the opposite side of the leg. The 
 operation must have been very painful, but 
 the man bore it without any complaint. After 
 the wound was dressed, blankets were spread 
 for Green in the shade, and the others 
 gathered around him to eat their dinner and 
 hear his story. 
 
 ^ Soon after you left,' said Green, ' Leighton, 
 the Londoner, and I, went into the bush to 
 amuse ourselves by shooting. As we were
 
 140 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 passing some buslies, I heard a great noise, 
 looked around, and saw several blacks, and 
 Leighton lying on tlie ground with some 
 spears in him. The Londoner and I fired 
 our revolvers and dropped several of them, 
 but as there were dozens more coming upon 
 us we made tracks. Bill and I got separated, 
 and five of the blacks followed me. I ran 
 for about two miles, and then began to give 
 out. Three of them were close upon me, and 
 I was looking ahead for a big tree to get 
 behind and show fight, when one of them gave 
 me this spear that I brought here. I turned 
 round and gave him in return the only shot 
 I had left out of the six. He fell, and the 
 other two turned and ran back. Since then 
 I have walked about two miles, and had I 
 not found you I know not what would have 
 become of me, for I thought that I was going 
 towards the ship.'
 
 The Exploring Party, 141 
 
 ' Do you think that Leighton was killed ? ' 
 asked Deverel. 
 
 * I can't say. There were three or four 
 spears in him; but I saw him firing his re- 
 volver when he was down, and I think all 
 the blacks left him.' 
 
 ' Our journey is delayed for a time,' said 
 Deverel. ' We must find Leighton and Bill, 
 and save them if they are not already killed. 
 Can you guide us. Green, to the place where 
 you left Leighton ? ' 
 
 * Not from here,' answered Green. ' I am 
 lost, or I never would have come in this 
 direction; but I could go to the place from 
 the shore where we started.' 
 
 They resolved to return immediately to the 
 brig. A cot was made of some poles and 
 blankets in which to carry Green, for his leg 
 became so painful that he could not walk. 
 In their journey back they moved very slowly.
 
 14^ Andrew Deverel. 
 
 for Green was a heavy man, and was carried 
 with much difficulty. 
 
 The sun had set when they reached the top 
 of a hill that commanded a view of the cove 
 where the brig was lying. Here they en- 
 countered a party of about fifty blacks, who 
 tried to oppose their progress. A volley from 
 the rifles, which killed seven of them, put the 
 remainder to flight ; but not till they threw a 
 shower of darts and stones which wounded 
 Deverel and another. 
 
 Deverel was hit on the head by a stone from 
 a sling, and for an hour was insensible. The 
 blacks retreated towards the shore in the 
 direction in which the party wished to go. 
 Looking in that direction they could see many 
 fires, showing there were other blacks besides 
 those they had just driven away. A consulta- 
 tion was then held, and they resolved to 
 remain where they were till morning. It was
 
 The Explorhig Party, 143 
 
 not easy to fight their way through the savages 
 while carrying two wounded men. 
 
 When Andrew Deverel regained his senses, 
 his thoughts were anything but pleasant. Com- 
 munication with the brig was cut off by the 
 blacks, and his friend Leighton, if yet alive, 
 was certainly severely wounded. He might 
 die from exposure and want of aid, yet they 
 knew not in which direction to seek him. The 
 night was very dark, and an immediate attempt 
 to find Leighton and his companion Bill 
 would only bring more misfortunes. He felt 
 there was nothing to be done. He could 
 only wait until morning ; but the necessity that 
 caused this resolution caused him to pass a 
 sleepless night. 
 
 A watch was set for the night, which was 
 passed without their being molested. 
 
 In the morning they discovered that wher- 
 ever a boat could land on the beach, the spot
 
 144 Andrew Deverel, 
 
 was occupied by natives, who seemed preparing 
 to attack the brig. 
 
 Some of the party were afraid the brig 
 would put to sea and leave them ; and all 
 thoughts of finding Leighton and the Londoner 
 Bill were abandoned for the moment until 
 they should have communication with those on 
 the brig. 
 
 They found that, by walking out on the pro- 
 montory that bounded the cOve on the north, 
 they could approach near enough the brig to 
 signal her; accordingly, they made a circuit 
 around the blacks to the north side of the cove. 
 
 Missouri, Shane, and another were then sent 
 forward to get as near the brig as possible, and 
 let Captain Warren know that the party had 
 returned. On arriving opposite the brig, 
 Missouri shouted twice, and Captain "Warren 
 came off in a boat ; he could approach near 
 enough to speak to them, but there was no place
 
 The 'Exploring Party, 145 
 
 where a boat could land except what was oc- 
 cupied by the natives. It was resolved that the 
 brig should go in and disperse them with the 
 two guns. The party on shore would then be 
 able to fight their way to the landing-place, 
 where the boats would be sent to meet them. 
 
 When the three men returned with this in- 
 telligence, Deverel regretted the attack had 
 not been delayed until they had at least tried 
 to find Leighton and the Londoner. 
 
 ' I told him that we had Green with us/ said 
 Missouri, ^ and he said that the Londoner was 
 safe on board, and that Leighton was killed.' 
 
 Green felt jealous that the Londoner should 
 have found his way to the brig whilst he, Sam 
 Green, who had been brought up in the bush, 
 had lost himself. ' Bill can give no later news 
 from Leighton than I can,' said he. * When 
 we broke cover of the trees, Leighton was 
 alive, although he is probably dead before this, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 14^ Andrew D ever el, 
 
 even had he received no further injury, for I 
 certainly saw three spears sticking in him.' 
 
 ^We must try to find him before we go 
 aboard/ said Deverel. 
 
 ' It won't do,' said Missouri, ^ for we shall 
 not have time. Captain Warren said the 
 natives were preparing to take the brig, and 
 that he was expecting them every hour.' 
 
 ' I do not like to leave a wounded man to 
 die, and I will not,' said Deverel. 
 
 ^ I do n't suppose that any one of us likes to 
 do such a thing,' answered Missouri, * but the 
 chances are that the natives have taken all the 
 care of Leighton that he will want in this world; 
 besides, our first duty is to save ourselves.' 
 
 By this time the brig had got under way, 
 and was moving farther up the cove. 
 
 Seeing this, the men took up their packs and 
 proceeded along the shore towards the mouth 
 of the river. 
 
 \
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 EXPLORING CONTINUED. 
 
 As the brig drew near the mouth of the 
 river, the natives were seen on their rafts 
 coming to meet it. The tide had just turned, 
 and the rafts were moving slowly out. The 
 breeze that enabled the brig to move against 
 the tide was light, and it approached the rafts 
 but slowly. 
 
 When it was within about three hundred 
 yards of the rafts, the two guns were fired with 
 horrible execution : the blacks not killed all 
 left the rafts and swam for the shore. 
 
 Deverel and his party, when the firing com- 
 
 L 2
 
 T48 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 menced, made for the landing-place, which they 
 reached after a short skirmish with a party of 
 the retreating natives, who killed one of the 
 men and wounded two others. 
 
 In two hours from the time the firing com- 
 menced, they were once more aboard of the 
 brig and had buried the slain man. 
 
 The brig was then allowed to move by the 
 tide farther out, and orders were given to come 
 to an anchor. At this there was some mur- 
 muring amongst the crew, who were anxious 
 to proceed immediately to sea. 
 
 Early the next morning, Deverel and nine 
 others left the brig for the shore, with the in- 
 tention of trying to find Leighton, but, as more 
 than two hundred natives stood on the shore to 
 oppose their landing, they had to return. 
 
 A consultation was held as to what should 
 be done. 
 
 Deverel was unwilling to relinquish visiting
 
 Explorifig continued. 149 
 
 the interior of the island ; four others united 
 with him in trying to persuade the others to 
 make one more attempt. 
 
 They were opposed by all the rest, and the 
 most strongly by Missouri. 
 
 * What is our object in exploring this island,' 
 said he, * but the possibility of finding gold ? 
 Would we not show more wisdom in going to 
 New South Wales, where gold has already been 
 found, in large quantities and but lately ? I 
 am no coward, but I believe our chance of 
 getting killed here is greater than that of find- 
 ing gold. If the natives were not troublesome, 
 I would not mind taking a little trip up the 
 country, out of curiosity. 
 
 ' I came with the expedition partly for that 
 purpose ; but for so few of us to fight our way 
 against so many, and with so little induciinent, 
 will not pay. This island is a paradise, but it 
 is inhabited by devils, and I want to leave it.'
 
 150 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 As Missouri expressed the opinion of nearly- 
 all the others, Andrew Deverel had to yield, and 
 resigned himself to the disappointment of going 
 to sea without accomplishing the object for 
 which he left San Francisco. It was not easy 
 for him to do this, for he had a great desire to 
 make some discovery that should bring about 
 the colonisation of New Guinea, and reveal to 
 the world its many sources of wealth. He 
 knew that if gold were discovered in New 
 Guinea, the island would rapidly become a 
 place of great importance, not only on ac- 
 count of its gold-fields, but from its wealth in 
 other respects. The great fertility- of its soil 
 would become known, and thousands would be 
 drawn to its shores by the superior attractions 
 it possesses over all other lands. He knew 
 that the attention of mankind could not be 
 turned upon New Guinea without some notice 
 being taken of the one who had first drawn
 
 Explorhtg continued. 151 
 
 the attention of others to it. He would be 
 making a mark on the world that v/ould 
 last for ages. He would some time have 
 his name written on the pages of the his- 
 tory of a country. He would be doing 
 something towards making himself worthy 
 of the one he loved, and would be win- 
 ning a name that even her proud father 
 might envy. By the decision of his comrades 
 all those bright hopes were for the present 
 overthrown, and he had only to return to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 When all things were ready for leaving 
 the cove, the elements were against them. 
 A strong breeze sprang up from the north- 
 east as the tide was coming in. Before 
 morning the breeze increased to a gale, and, 
 in an attempt to get out for sea-room, the 
 brig was nearly lost on some rocks. Both 
 anchors were then dropped, with the hope that
 
 i^Z Andrew D ever el, 
 
 the brig might ride through the gale ; but the 
 storm caused it to drag the anchors, in doing 
 which the brig gradually neared the perpen- 
 dicular cliffs on the southern side of the cove. 
 The danger soon became so imminent that 
 both cables were slipped, and the brig put 
 before the wind with the intention of running 
 her a short distance up the river, which was 
 the only chance of saving the vessel. By 
 doing this there was a great chance of all 
 being killed by the blacks, but the certainty of 
 being thrown on the rocks, should they remain, 
 made the course necessary ; and some one has 
 written that *what is absolutely necessary is 
 never dangerous.' 
 
 As the brig entered the mouth of the river, 
 it became very doubtful whether the water 
 would be of sufficient depth to allow it to 
 ascend, for it struck twice, but the succeeding 
 wave carried it off each time.
 
 Exploring continued. 153 
 
 The blacks were seen at a distance on the 
 shore, assembling in great force. 
 
 The danger of losing the brig, and the 
 certainty of having to meet the blacks, made 
 their situation highly exciting. 
 
 Under the most favourable circumstances to 
 which they could then look forward with any 
 hope, there were hardships and dangers to be 
 encountered ; and when Andrew Deverel saw 
 the probable misfortunes which he had been 
 the means of bringing upon so many, his 
 regrets were as strong for the wild hopes he 
 had formed as they had been a few hours be- 
 fore for having to abandon them. 
 
 About a mile up the river they saw a place 
 where it widened abruptly, on one side forming 
 a right angle. The brig was made to turn 
 this angle, and was then run ashore upon a 
 bank thickly covered with drift of reeds and 
 bushes.
 
 154 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 Preparations were then made for bringing 
 the guns to bear on any point of danger. 
 The passengers were divided between the two 
 watches, and every precaution was taken to 
 prevent a surprise from the natives. 
 
 That night the gale abated, and the next 
 morning a steady breeze was blowing from 
 the south, but the brig could not be got off the 
 bank. 
 
 The natives were seen a few hundred yards 
 off on both sides of the river, and one was 
 observed stealing behind some bushes, not far 
 from the ship. Some of the men fired into the 
 bushes, and the native fled to his companions. 
 
 Deverel wished to make an attempt to find 
 Leighton, or at least to obtain some certainty 
 as to his fate ; but, from the number of natives 
 seen around them in every direction, such an 
 attempt could not be safely made, and, more- 
 over, the captain wanted all hands to aid in
 
 Exploring continued, 155 
 
 o^ettino; the vessel from the bank. All that 
 day they were unmolested by the blacks, but 
 their efforts to move the brig were ineffec- 
 tual. 
 
 Towards sunset a party of six landed to pro- 
 ceed a short distance up the south bank and 
 see what the natives were about, for it had been 
 noticed that they had been very busy in that 
 direction. The party returned with the in- 
 telligence that the blacks were making rafts, 
 and that they had four large canoes, which had 
 probably been brought down the river since 
 the first attack. That night a good watch was 
 kept, but they were undisturbed until the day- 
 light, when all hands were roused by the cry 
 that the blacks were cominc:. On both sides 
 of the river the blacks were numerous. Se- 
 veral large rafts were seen floating down the 
 river, each one containing from eight to twelve 
 men.
 
 1^6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 Contrary to the expectations of all, the 
 canoes approaching the brig from behind were 
 seen pulling against the stream. As they 
 could not have been taken down the river past 
 the brig, they must have been dragged over 
 land, past the vessel, during the night. 
 
 It was plain that the object of the blacks 
 was to attack the brig from every direction. 
 
 During the passage from Manilla, exag- 
 gerated accounts of the ferocity of the natives 
 of New Guinea, and their love of plundering 
 vessels, had been freely circulated. 
 
 The second mate could give the names of 
 four ships that had been taken, and all hands 
 killed by the blacks, on the coast of New 
 Guinea. 
 
 One of the crew told how he had been in a 
 ship that got becalmed while passing through 
 Torres' Straits. The ship was close in upon 
 the New Guinea coast, and the blacks came off.
 
 Exploring continued. 157 
 
 but, fortunately for those on board, after an 
 hour of hard fighting, a light breeze sprang 
 up that took the ship away. 
 
 These stories, with what they had themselves 
 seen since cominf]^ to the island, ojave all on 
 board the brig a full sense of the danger of 
 their situation. 
 
 As the canoes slowly swept around the point, 
 they saw that some of them were towing rafts, 
 which, although unmanned, were evidently 
 intended for some use. 
 
 Captain Warren directed both guns to be 
 brought to bear on the canoes, which were 
 approaching rapidly. 
 
 The rafts that were floating down the stream, 
 spread from each other like a fan. 
 
 Those on the bank of the river, where 
 the brig had struck, came rushing down, 
 throwing stones with slings, and yelling like 
 lunatic demons — their object apparently being
 
 158 Andrew DevereL 
 
 to divert the attention of those on board the 
 brig as much as possible from those in the 
 canoes and on the rafts. 
 
 ' Never mind those on shore, but look out 
 for those on the water,' said the captain. 
 * Fire the port gun at the first canoe. Eeserve 
 the fire of the starboard gun till we see the 
 effect of the other.' 
 
 ' Draw a fine sight, and don't lose a shot,' 
 said Arkansas. 
 
 Then came a moment of intense anxiety. 
 
 Whilst waiting for the canoes, a dart, thrown 
 by one of the blacks on the shore, struck one 
 of the crew, named Shane, on the neck. He 
 fell, made a convulsive grasp at the dart, tore 
 it from the wound, and died before the battle 
 fairly commenced.
 
 159 
 
 CHAPTEK . XVIL 
 
 THE ESCAPE FROM NEW GUIiTEA. 
 
 There was no time to remove him. The port 
 gun, loaded with a ball and slugs of broken iron, 
 was fired at the foremost canoe. It was 
 knocked in pieces, and most of the natives in 
 it were killed. 
 
 Some of the blacks in the other canoes were 
 killed and wounded by the large splinters of 
 wood, and by some of the iron slugs. 
 
 A volley from the rifles killed several of the 
 natives on the rafts. 
 
 Missouri did not fire in the same direction 
 as the rest. His attention was attracted by
 
 i6o Andrew Deverel, 
 
 one of the natives who was in a tree on the 
 shore, not far from the ship. He raised his 
 rifle to his shoulder and fired. 
 
 The black in the tree fell headlong to the 
 ground. 
 
 A volley from the revolvers killed seve- 
 ral on the shore, and caused the rest to 
 retire. 
 
 Those in the canoes and on the rafts were 
 thrown into some confusion, but they could not 
 well retreat. 
 
 They hesitated for a minute, but a man 
 standing in one of the canoes, much whiter 
 than the others, shouted some orders to those 
 on the rafts, who renewed their exertions for 
 reaching the brig. 
 
 Whilst the fight was going on, clouds 
 darkened the air, and as the canoes were 
 preparing to renew the attack, the storm 
 broke with great violence.
 
 Escape from New Guinea. i6i 
 
 Rain fell in torrents, filling the air so full 
 of water that some of the men afterwards 
 declared that during the storm they experienced 
 a sensation of drowning or suffocation. 
 
 The guns were fired at the canoes in spite of 
 the storm, doing great damage. Nearly all the 
 blacks who remained unhurt swam for the 
 shore. Three volleys were fired at the same 
 time from the revolvers at those on the rafts, 
 and the rout of the natives became general. 
 
 In vain the tall white man in one of the 
 canoes strove to rally them, but the storm of 
 iron and lead was too fatal to be withstood. 
 For a while the danger was past ; still none on 
 board the brig doubted that another attack 
 would follow, as the natives were not destroyed, 
 though discomfited for the moment. 
 
 A great number of the natives on the 
 opposite bank of the river, who had taken 
 no part in the affray except by uttering 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 i6z Andrew D ever el, 
 
 hideous yells, still remained, and the rafts 
 towed by the canoes were uninjured. 
 
 The thunderstorm soon passed, and the 
 heat of the sunbeams was so intense that the 
 evaporation made the island seem a vast vapour- 
 bath. 
 
 With the exception of Shane, who had been 
 killed, only two men were wounded on the 
 brig. 
 
 ' Did you see me knock one of the black- 
 pelted devils out of that tree ? ' said Missouri, 
 pointing to a tree on the shore. 
 
 ' Yes ; I regret to say that I saw you do it,' 
 said Deverel, ' and thought at the time that 
 you would have shown more wisdom by firing 
 at those on the rafts, for there was no imme- 
 diate danger of the man in the tree.' 
 
 ' Why,' said Missouri, ^ that was the black 
 who killed poor Shane I I saw the dart come 
 from the tree.'
 
 Escape from New Gtimea. J 6^ 
 
 ' Pardon me, Missouri/ said Deverel, grasp- 
 ing his hand; ^I will try never to form a 
 wrong opinion of your actions again.' 
 
 At nine o'clock in the evening the river 
 began to rise with the tide, and there were 
 strong hopes of getting the brig off. The 
 mountain streams that fed the river had been 
 swollen by the late storm, and the water rose 
 rapidly. 
 
 About ten o'clock, however, there was a 
 fresh alarm of the approach of the blacks. 
 
 The night was very dark, and the canoes were 
 nearly alongside before they were discovered. 
 
 The large guns could not be used, and the 
 blacks were soon climbing the sides. , 
 
 Lamps were burning over the deck. 
 
 These lights enabled them to see a black head 
 whenever it appeared over the bulwarks, and 
 whenever a head arose, it received a bullet or 
 a blow with a handspike. 
 
 31 2
 
 164 Andrew DevereL 
 
 The blacks had some trouble at first in 
 ascending the side, and were easily kept at bay 
 for a while, but the danger was imminent. 
 
 ' She moves ! she moves ! ' exclaimed Cap- 
 tain Warren. 
 
 He was right. 
 
 The brig was indeed afloat and gradually 
 turning into the current. 
 
 A light breeze was springing up from the 
 north. 
 
 ' Set the mainsail ! ' shouted the captain. 
 * We are oiF! Jones, take the wheel. Sou'- 
 west by sou' ! ' 
 
 ' Sou'-west by sou',' said Jones, dropping a 
 handspike and running to the wheel. 
 
 W^hile the sail was being set, four or five 
 natives had gained the deck, but they were 
 immediately shot or knocked down. 
 
 ' Sou'-west by sou' ' took them into the centre 
 of the stream beyond the point. The bow was
 
 Escape from New Giihiea. 165 
 
 then allowed to turn clown stream, the sail 
 was trimmed, and the brig rushed down the 
 river. 
 
 While sheltered by the trees on the bank of 
 the river, the breeze seemed light, but on 
 gaining the cove it blew strong, and increasing. 
 Captain Warren did not dare attempt to recover 
 his anchors, for fear of again getting ashore. 
 
 The topsails were set, and the brig was 
 allowed to run through the cove into the open 
 sea. In clearing the deck, one of their as- 
 sailants, who had boarded the vessel and been 
 shot down, was found to be still living. He was 
 recognised as the tall white man who had been 
 in command of the blacks during the attack in 
 the morning. He was carried below, and a 
 young man, one of the passengers, who 
 officiated as surgeon, proceeded to examine 
 the wound. 
 
 The man had been shot in the breast. The
 
 1 66 Andrew DevereL 
 
 surgeon exclaimed, ' Good God ! A man living 
 two hours after being shot through the heart ! ' 
 
 Such, at first, really seemed to be the fact, 
 for the ball had struck the breast a little above 
 the heart, and entering the body had taken a 
 course slightly upwards. Had the ball struck 
 one inch lower, the man must have died 
 instantly. 
 
 The young man was proceeding to probe 
 the wound. 
 
 ' I say,* said Arkansas, who was standing 
 near, * I reckon you want to kill the man.' 
 
 ' I think he wull surely die,' said the surgeon ; 
 ^ but certainly his only chance is to have the 
 ball extracted.' 
 
 ^ I dare say you are right,' said Arkansas. 
 ' Take out the ball if you can.' 
 
 The surgeon again applied the probe to the 
 wound. 
 
 ^I say, you will kill him,' said Arkansas;
 
 Escape from New Guhiea. 167 
 
 ^ but p'rhaps 't is all right. I reckon he de- 
 serves it.' 
 
 ^ How shall I extract the ball ? ' asked the 
 young man, with an expression of anger and 
 perplexity combined. 
 
 Arkansas advanced and turned the wounded 
 man gently over on his face. Passing his 
 hand over the man's back, he felt the ball, 
 which lay close under the shoulder blade. 
 The surgeon made a slight incision with the 
 knife, and picked out the ball. 
 
 Andrew Deverel did not wish to go to Sydney, 
 New South Wales, neither did Captain Warreo, 
 and yet they did not wish to take any advan- 
 tage of circumstances to break their engage- 
 ment with the passengers and crew. 
 
 The next morning, all hands were assembled, 
 and the captain told them that, under existing 
 circumstances, he could not take them direct 
 to Sydney. He wished to go to Manilla, the
 
 1 68 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 nearest port where lie could obtain anchors. 
 From thence he promised to take them imme- 
 diately to Sydney, or would pay their passage 
 to that port, in any vessel that would be going 
 thither. 
 
 That night, about twelve o'clock, there was 
 a shock which made all on board think that 
 the brig had struck. 
 
 Those on deck were thrown off their legs, 
 and many below were nearly thrown out of 
 their hammocks. All came running on deck 
 undressed, to see the brig go to pieces. Again 
 the ship seemed to strike heavily on a rock. 
 The vessel rolled wildly for a minute, and then 
 was free. This motion was followed by a 
 plunge that threatened to take it to the bottom. 
 The confusion on deck was great, for all 
 were anxious to learn what would be likely to 
 form the largest part of the wreck. The brig 
 was put on another tack, and an attempt was
 
 Escape from New Guinea, i6g 
 
 made to take soundings, but no bottom could 
 be found. Five minutes of anxious suspense 
 passed, and all were astonished to find them- 
 selves unharmed. The pumps were sounded, 
 and no water was found. 
 
 ' It was only an earthquake, or a 5^a-quake,' 
 said Captain Warren ; and one minute after, 
 only the watch remained on the deck. 
 
 Andrew Deverel never passed a more un- 
 pleasant time at sea than on the passage from 
 New Guinea to Manilla. He was going from 
 New Guinea with a stronger desire to explore 
 the country than he possessed when he first 
 sailed to it, for the little he had seen of it only 
 increased the desire to see more. He had 
 seen that the land was rich in natural wealth. 
 The valleys were broad and covered with 
 valuable timber. The hills were clothed with 
 spice trees, and everywhere the soil seemed 
 fertile : and, cultivated only by Nature, abun-
 
 170 Andrew DevereL 
 
 dance of food was growing. He saw no reason 
 to doubt that gold might be found amongst 
 the mountains he had seen far in advance, in 
 the direction they had started to explore, and 
 the necessity that compelled him to turn from 
 the island without seeing more of it, was one 
 that he must ever regret. He knew the coun- 
 try must, some time or other, be settled by 
 people who speak English, but his expedition 
 to bring about that result had failed. His 
 name would never be written in the future 
 history of New Guinea.
 
 J7I 
 
 CHAPTEE XYIII. 
 
 THE WOUNDED PIRATE. 
 
 The brig containing the disappointed gold- 
 hunters had good weather, and a quick run 
 to Manilla. During the passage there, the 
 wounded man brought from New Guinea re- 
 mained in a very uncertain state, fluttering 
 between life and death. 
 
 He seemed a little better on reaching 
 Manilla, and on being gently conveyed ashore, 
 and examined by the surgeons of a hospital, 
 they pronounced him to be in very little 
 danger. 
 
 After receiving every assurance that the
 
 17^ Ajidrevo T) ever eh 
 
 man would have proper care, they left him in 
 the hospital. 
 
 Andrew Deverel very naturally had much 
 curiosity to learn something of the one who 
 had thus strangely been brought under his care, 
 but, as the man could only speak with much 
 difficulty and pain, he could learn nothing. 
 
 An English ship was to sail for Sydney in 
 two days after our adventurers arrived in 
 Manilla, and arrangements were made with its 
 captain to take all those from the brig who 
 wished to go — an opportunity of which nearly 
 all availed themselves. 
 
 The captain lost no time in getting the brig 
 again ready for sea. He easily shipped another 
 crew, and, three weeks after his arrival, sailed 
 on a trading voyage amongst the Spice Islands. 
 
 Andrew Deverel would have liked to ac- 
 company him in the voyage, but business called 
 him elsewhere.
 
 The wounded Pirate, 173 
 
 The object for whicli the exertions of the 
 last two years had been made was not obtained, 
 and must no longer be neglected. 
 
 It was arranged between Captain Warren 
 and D ever el that when the brig had obtained 
 a cargo, it should proceed to New York, at 
 which place the Captain was to write as often 
 as convenient during the year or eighteen 
 months in which he expected to be freighting 
 the brig. 
 
 The Captain sailed for the Celebes, and 
 Deverel remained in Manilla, waiting for a 
 passage to San Francisco. 
 
 He called daily at the hospital to see the 
 wounded man whom they had brought from 
 New Guinen. 
 
 Ever since his arrival in Manilla, the man 
 had been recovering much faster than the 
 appearance of the wound at first would lead 
 anyone to expect. A month after being
 
 174 Andrew DevereL 
 
 placed in the hospital, he was able to walk 
 gently about the room, and to converse with- 
 out much difficulty. 
 
 One day, on visiting him, Deverel said, 
 ^I am going to leave here next week, and 
 I am undecided what to do with you before 
 I go.' 
 
 * Tell me how you are in doubt,' said the 
 man, ^and I will try to help you out of it, 
 although I owe you, or some one, no good will 
 for bringing me from home, and leaving me 
 wounded here.' 
 
 ^ Had we not brought you away, you would 
 have died of your wound,' said Deverel. 
 
 ' Had you never molested me in my home,' 
 said the man, 'I should not have been 
 wounded.' 
 
 ' Now we are coming to the point on which 
 I am in doubt how to act. 
 
 ' In the attacks made upon the brig, or those
 
 The wounded Pirate, 175 
 
 belonging to it, you will probably claim to be 
 repelling invaders. I maintain, that the object 
 of those attacks was plunder, and that, in trying 
 to accomplish that object, you have aided in 
 murdering three men. I am in doubt whether 
 I should, or should not, hand you over to the 
 authorities.' 
 
 ' Do not allow those doubts to give you any 
 uneasiness. Satisfy your own conscience, with- 
 out any regard to what may be my wishes, for 
 whatever you do will not in the least affect 
 my welfare. 
 
 ^ The Spanish authorities, or those of any 
 other country, cannot trouble me for my acts 
 in New Guinea. 
 
 ^ My country and my people are on the east 
 coast of New Guinea, and I will not be held 
 accountable here for anything I may have 
 done there, when my country was invaded.' 
 
 ' Do you really think that you cannot be
 
 iy6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 punished for what you have done ? ' asked 
 Deverel. 
 
 ' I am certain that I could not be punished 
 lawfully, whatever I might be made to suffer 
 unjustly. 
 
 ^ I had lived where you found me for more 
 than ten years^ obeying the laws of the people 
 in the country I adopted for a home. What 
 human power has the right to punish me for 
 that?' 
 
 ' "We will not argue that question now ; but 
 tell me what you intend doing, should I leave 
 you here free.' 
 
 ' I shall probably return to the happy home 
 from which I have been cruelly taken away.' 
 
 'I shall try to prevent that. I believe 
 that you are capable of being a useful mem- 
 ber of civilised society, even should that 
 society be composed of convicts. I must 
 prevent your returning to New Guinea, where
 
 The wounded Pirate, jyy 
 
 you may be the cause of bringing upon 
 others the same misfortune that met my 
 companions and myself.' 
 
 ' We will not argue that point now, but 
 tell me for what purpose you landed in New 
 Guinea.' 
 
 ' To explore the country.' 
 
 ^ I thought so ; and, thank God, I prevented 
 that purpose from being accomplished. My 
 life has not been in vain.' 
 
 ^ AYhy do you thank God for having in- 
 jured those who never wronged you?' asked 
 Deverel, with some surprise. 
 
 ^ To give a correct answer might only in- 
 duce you to go there again,' replied the pirate, 
 ^and you might then be more successful.' 
 
 ^No. I am about to visit my native 
 country, and shall never again see this part 
 of the world. But why would you regret my 
 going again, and being successful in my object ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 Andrew DevereL 
 
 ' Since you do not intend going again, I 
 will answer your question. If one-half of 
 tlie truth respecting the riches of New 
 Guinea were known to the greedy, avari- 
 cious peace-destroyers of this world, who 
 think themselves " civilised " and " enlight- 
 ened," in less than twelve months the island 
 would be overrun with them, and the natives 
 of the country would have no home of their 
 own. The natives of New Guinea are not so 
 bad as you have ever heard them represented. 
 I have lived amongst them for many years, 
 and I like them too well to see them fall 
 under the curse that the march of civilisation 
 would certainly bring to them. You cannot 
 show me on earth a people living in a state 
 of barbarism, but what have been reduced 
 still lower in the scale of humanity by being 
 brought under subjection of those professing 
 civilisation. If the people of New Guinea 
 wish a home for their children — if they do
 
 The wou7tded Pirate. lyg 
 
 not wish as a people to be washed out of 
 existence by their own blood and tears — they 
 must repel from their shores adventurers like 
 you, who come to spy the riches of the land, 
 who would draw to its shores a crowd of 
 hungry, greedy wretches. While I have been 
 in New Guinea I have known of two ship- 
 loads of the natives being taken away in slave 
 ships. The natives on each occasion had been 
 treacherously enticed aboard the ships, seized, 
 taken below, and put on the chains. So little 
 do I blame them for all the injury they do to 
 the white men who visit them, that I have 
 given my aid in killing all who come to the 
 island. You tell me that you intend leaving 
 here next week ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am going to San Francisco, on my 
 way home to New York.' 
 
 ' Sau Francisco ! Where is that ? I have 
 never heard of it.' 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o Andrew DevereL 
 
 ' In California. You have certainly heard 
 of that place ? ' 
 
 ^ California ! California ! Let me see. Oh, 
 I remember ! It is on the west coast of 
 America. I have never heard of the place 
 before, since I was twelve years of age at 
 school. I do not know what object can take 
 you there, unless a similar one to what 
 brought you to New Guinea, and if such 
 is the case, I hope you will meet with no 
 better success. Before you leave, I demand 
 from you the way or means of returning to 
 my home in New Guinea.' 
 
 ' You had better go with me to California.' 
 ' Tell me your object in going there.' 
 ' To return to the eastern side of America.' 
 ^That is a strange course to take. Why 
 not go by the way of China, or India ? ' 
 
 ' I see your knowledge of places is a few 
 years behind the times. California is now one
 
 The wounded Pirate, i8i 
 
 of the United States. It is not the wilder- 
 ness you suppose, but the war of life is 
 raging more wildly there than in any other 
 place. I can go from San Francisco to New 
 York in less than thirty days, by steamers 
 running to the Isthmus of Darien.' 
 
 ' What has worked that great change in so 
 short a time with California ? ' 
 
 ^ The discovery of rich and extensive gold- 
 fields, where thousands are working and pro- 
 curing tons of gold annually. Will you go 
 with me there? It is on your way home, 
 and you can have a look at the land of 
 gold.' 
 
 ' Gold has no charms for me. In the last 
 ten years I have often seen it shining be- 
 neath my feet, and have passed it by as un- 
 heeded as the sands on the shore. I would 
 not leave New Guinea to seek gold.' 
 
 * But will you go with mc ? Are there not
 
 i8z Andrew D ever el. 
 
 other inducements to entice you to a civilised 
 life?' 
 
 ' Give me time to think. I have a wife 
 and family in New Guinea, who now mourn 
 me as dead, and I would like to remove their 
 anxiety, yet I have been intending to visit the 
 great world again. I have business to transact 
 in it, and perhaps a more convenient time for 
 my going to my native land may never occur 
 than now. My wife and children can suffer 
 no more than they already have suffered at 
 my loss, and it would only renew their sorrow 
 to lose me again, believing I would never 
 return, for I could not make them under- 
 stand how business should take me away. I 
 cannot promise you now, but give me time 
 to think, and see me again before you leave.' 
 
 Deverel promised to do as the wounded man 
 required, and left him.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 One day, as Andrew Deverel was walking a 
 short distance out of the city of Manilla, he 
 came to a beautiful residence, in front of 
 which was a garden full of ornamental trees 
 and shrubbery. His path lay close to the 
 railing dividing the garden from the street, 
 and while proceeding along it, he heard a 
 woman in a low voice call ' Hombre ! Senor ! ' 
 
 He turned, and saw a young woman partly 
 concealed by bushes in the garden, and look- 
 ing at him through the railing that enclosed it. 
 
 ' Habla usted Espaiiol ? ' she asked.
 
 t84 Andrew DevereL 
 
 He replied in the affirmative, and she then 
 asked if he was not an American. On being 
 told that he was, she asked if he was ever 
 going to Panama. He replied that he ex- 
 pected to be in that city within three months. 
 She then requested him to turn and gaze upon 
 anything the other side of the street, as she 
 might otherwise be observed from the house. 
 He thought the request a strange one, yet 
 complied with it. 
 
 *I wish to send a letter to a person in 
 Panama,' said she, ' and have tried to send 
 two by mail, but have reason to believe they 
 never left Manilla. Will you take one for 
 me?' 
 
 ' Si, Senorita, con mucho placer,' answered 
 Deverel. 
 
 ^ If you will walk along this path between 
 eight and nine o'clock to-morrow morning, 
 I will be here with the letter. Kow walk on,
 
 Isabel. T 85 
 
 or you will be seen standing here, and I shall 
 not be allowed out again for a month.' 
 
 Deverel promised to do as she requested, 
 and passed on. The next morning, at the 
 appointed time, he walked along the street, in 
 front of the garden. The girl was there, but 
 not alone ; a woman, several years older than 
 herself, was her companion. As Deverel drew 
 near, the girl called the attention of her com- 
 panion to something on the other side of the 
 garden, and extended her hand, in which was 
 a small package, through the railing. He took 
 the package and passed on without stopping. 
 Attached to the package was an unsealed 
 note, evidently for himself. On reaching his 
 room, he opened it, and read his instructions 
 and thanks. 
 
 Sefior N , to whom the package was 
 
 addressed, held an office under the govern- 
 ment of New Granada. In case the package
 
 1 86 Andrew DevereL 
 
 should be lost, he was to tell Senor N 
 
 that Isabel was in Manilla, and to give him 
 directions where to find her. 
 
 ^I wish,' thought Andrew Deverel, as he 
 gazed on the j)ackage, ' that one I have seen 
 was as anxious to find me as the girl I saw 
 to-day is to find Senor Carlos N .' 
 
 ' "Well, my friend, on what have you de- 
 cided?' said Andrew Deverel, the next time 
 he visited the wounded man in the hospital. 
 
 ^ The only conclusion I have formed is, to 
 reflect a little longer,' said the man. ' The 
 reasons for and against my going with you 
 are so many and strong on both sides, that I 
 shall be troubled with regrets in the future, 
 decide however I will. One great induce- 
 ment for my returning to New Guinea is to 
 get something to eat.' 
 
 ^Amongst other great changes that have 
 come over the world since you have been
 
 Isabel, 187 
 
 lost to it, you cannot suppose that people 
 have learnt to do without food.' 
 
 ^ No. I do not suppose they have much 
 changed in that respect, but I have. I have 
 acquired habits of eating food that cannot be 
 gratified elsewhere than in my home in New 
 Guinea, and I am nearly starved here.' 
 
 ' I find no reason to complain here,' said 
 Deverel, ^ and probably you would not, if out 
 of the hospital.' 
 
 ' You are mistaken, or rather you do not 
 understand me. My taste has become refined 
 by a long residence amongst those whom you 
 will call savages, and I do not like the gross 
 food that man eats in common with brutes in 
 civilised communities. 
 
 ^ For my breakfast I want a dish of cloves 
 and cinnamon, and in the 2:>lace of bread I want 
 ginger. I cannot make an evening meal 
 unless I am somewhere near a sajxo tree.'
 
 1 88 Afidrew D ever el, 
 
 ' Cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and sago can be 
 obtained in any part of the world,' said 
 Deverel. 
 
 * True, but not in a state fit for food. I 
 gave instructions how to cook a dish of cloves 
 and cinnamon, and in consequence I am in 
 danger of being removed from here to a mad- 
 house.' 
 
 ' I am not surprised at that, and I should 
 call a taste that preferred ginger to bread false 
 rather than refined.' 
 
 ^ Because you know nothing about it. 
 Ginger, to be used for food, must be cooked and 
 eaten when green. It is not so strong then as 
 when dried. But there are many other things 
 to which my taste has become accustomed, and 
 which I do not like to do without. 
 
 ^This may seem very ridiculous, but to a 
 man who is unwell and in an hospital, such con- 
 siderations are very serious.'
 
 IsaheL 189 
 
 ' Perhaps, when you have recovered your 
 health, and been a few months from home, you 
 will become accustomed to our fare. You had 
 better try the Experiment. A ship will soon 
 sail for San Francisco, so decide whether you 
 will accompany me or not, that I may make 
 arrangements.' 
 
 'It is very unpleasant to be amongst a 
 covetous, avaricious, copper-grabbing people 
 without money. Have you got plenty of it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, if you are not too unreasonable in 
 your demands.' 
 
 ' I shall want enough to land me in London 
 with a good suit of clothes on my back. I 
 will try to send you the money you advance 
 me on my arrival in England. If I cannot, 
 you must do without it. I will make no certain 
 promise to do so.' 
 
 ' Very well. We will act upon the under- 
 standing that you accompany me to San
 
 I go A7idrew D ever el. 
 
 Francisco, and I will make preparations for 
 you.' 
 
 ^ Yes. I will remain no longer hesitating. 
 I must go to England some time, and will start 
 with you. I may never have a better oppor- 
 tunity.' 
 
 ' May you never repent making this resolve ! 
 I will go immediately and arrange for a passage 
 for both of us/ said Deverel ; and the two men 
 shook hands and parted. 
 
 Had Andrew Deverel ever formed his 
 opinions of others from the unfavourable cir- 
 cumstances in which all are often placed, he 
 could only have treated the man he had 
 brought from New Guinea as a pirate and 
 murderer ; but he had himself often been in 
 circumstances from which others might have 
 drawn some strange conclusions as to his cha- 
 racter, and knowing that our actions are often 
 influenced by circumstances which others do
 
 Is ah eh 191 
 
 not know or do not understand, he could 
 believe there was something worth saving in 
 the man he wished to prevent from returning 
 to a state of barbarism.
 
 19^ Andrew D ever el. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE pirate's account OF HIMSELF. 
 
 Andrew Deverel engaged a passage for 
 himself and his companion in an American ship 
 bound for San Francisco, and four days after 
 the conversation related in the preceding chap- 
 ter, they left the ^ island of the Corregidor/ at 
 the entrance of the bay, with a fair breeze. 
 They were the only j)assengers on the ship, 
 and as the captain was not a sociable man, they 
 had but little of his company. 
 
 ^I must give you credit for not possessing 
 one disagreeable peculiarity that I have heard 
 ascribed to your countrymen,' said the com-
 
 The Pirate s Story, 193 
 
 panion of our hero, as they were one day 
 sitting on the poop. 
 
 'I regret to hear you say so,' said Deverel. 
 
 'You are not inquisitive,' continued the 
 other, not heeding the interruption. 'You 
 have not even asked my name.' 
 
 'If I have refrained from being inquisitive, 
 the reason was not because I have no curiosity 
 to gratify in learning something of your past 
 life, but that I thought you would some time 
 tell me all you were willing to communicate. 
 I confess that I have a strong desire to learn 
 how you came to reside in New Guinea — how 
 you managed to live there so long, and why 
 you wish to return.' 
 
 'I have but little to tell, but with that little 
 your patience shall be rewarded and your 
 curiosity gratified. 
 
 ' I have reason to believe that my father was 
 wealthy. I know that before his death he 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 lived in good style, and appeared to have the 
 command of plenty of money. My mother 
 died when I was fourteen, and my father soon 
 after married again. I never felt at home in 
 my father's house after that, neither did my 
 brother, who was two years older than myself. 
 My step-mother did not like us, and we hated 
 her. She made home as disagreeable to us as 
 possible, and we were only happy when away 
 from her at school. When I was about seven- 
 teen, my father died, and my step-mother 
 married ag^ain. We were then told that our 
 father had died poor, and that the sooner we 
 were able to take care of ourselves the better. 
 We were still kept at school, but every shilling 
 for our support seemed to come from unwilling 
 hands. 
 
 'When my brother objected to being kept at 
 school any longer, being the heir of my father's 
 property and entitled to have something done
 
 The Pirate s Story. 195 
 
 for him, a commission was purchased for him in 
 the army, and he was sent to India. 
 
 ' I was told to prepare myself for the church. 
 No reflection was necessary to tell me that I 
 was never intended for the church. That was 
 the last profession or occupation followed by 
 man that I could be driven into pursuing, and 
 I told my step-mother so. 
 
 ' "Yery well/' said she; "earn a living in 
 any way you choose, but you must provide for 
 yourself" I resolved from that moment never 
 to receive another penny through her hands, 
 yet I was puzzled what to do. 
 
 * I had an uncle named Richard Leighton, a 
 very wealthy man, but I did not like to apply 
 to him, although my mother was his only sister. 
 My father and he had not been good friends, 
 and I had not seen Uncle Richard for several 
 years. I had heard that he had chosen for his 
 heir the eldest son of his brother, my cousin 
 o 2
 
 196 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 Henry Leighton, and I bad some pride that 
 prevented my going to Mm for assistance 
 which I have no doubt he would have 
 given me.' 
 
 'Do you say that your cousin's name was 
 Henry Leigbton?' asked Deverel. 
 
 '^Yes, and I have forgotten or neglected 
 to tell you that mine is Eicbard Leigbton 
 Middleton now; but on the island I had 
 another name, the only word in the language I 
 did not learn to pronounce.' 
 
 * One of our men killed on the island was 
 named Henry Leigbton,' said Deverel, ' and 
 there was a little resemblance between him 
 and you.' 
 
 ' You are right,' exclaimed Middleton ; ' I 
 saw him. It was my cousin. Was he an 
 Englishman?' 
 
 'Yes, from somewhere near London — I 
 think he told me Brompton.'
 
 The Pirate s Story, igy 
 
 ' There is no doubt about it. He was 
 killed on the first day you landed. I 
 passed by after he was dead, and saw his 
 features. They looked familiar, but the idea 
 that any of my former acquaintances had 
 reached New Guinea was too absurd to be 
 entertained for a second, and I passed by as 
 heedless as the others.' 
 
 'I have with me a portmanteau left by 
 Leighton. I was intending some time to look 
 over its contents, and if I found anything of 
 any value to send it to his friends.' 
 
 ' Let us see it now. It may contain posi- 
 tive proof of what I now believe, that that 
 man was my cousin. How strange that 
 I should meet him lying dead in New 
 Guinea ! ' 
 
 They went into the cabin, and after trying 
 several keys, they found one that fitted the 
 lock. In the portmanteau they found some let- 
 ters written by Leighton's mother. Middleton
 
 igS A?tdrew D ever el. 
 
 examined the letters, and said they were 
 written by his aunt, Mrs. Leigh ton. 
 
 They also found some daguerreotypes of his 
 relatives, and other proofs which placed the 
 question beyond all doubt that the man killed 
 on the island was Middleton's cousin. 
 
 ^ Poor Harry ! ' said Middleton. ' What could 
 have induced him to leave home ? ' 
 
 ^He told me, on the passage to New Guinea,' 
 said Deverel, ' that he had lost the good-will of 
 an uncle on whom he had been dependent, that 
 his prospects were ruined at home, and that he 
 came to seek a fortune in California, where a 
 strong propensity for hunting prevented him 
 from meeting with success.' 
 
 They then returned to the deck, and Middle- 
 ton continued his story. 
 
 ' I was acquainted with a young man who 
 was a midshipman in an Indian merchantman. 
 He had been a schoolmate, and we were warm 
 friends. The ship to which he belonged was
 
 The Pirate s Story, 199 
 
 about to sail, and I shipped on board as an 
 ordinary seaman. This was a foolish freak of 
 youth, but I was determined to earn my own 
 living, and in my own way. I am going to 
 cut my story as short as possible. 
 
 ' On reaching India I left the ship and found 
 my brother. He told me that I had done 
 w^'ong — that I should have stayed and insisted 
 on being put into a respectable way of living by 
 my mother-in-law and her husband. I told 
 him of what she said about her child having to 
 go without food in order that I might be sup- 
 ported in idleness, and of the complaints they 
 were always making about what they had 
 advanced for him. 
 
 ' My brother was in a great rage, and talked 
 about going home to punish them in some way 
 for dishonesty; he could not believe but that our 
 father must have left more money than what 
 they said was the case. He obtained for mc
 
 j300 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 the situation as secretary to a government 
 officer about to visit Borneo, the Celebes, 
 Moluccas, and some other islands, in a man-of- 
 war. While at the Moluccas the government 
 officer reprimanded me, in very ungentleman- 
 like language, for a simple act of carelessness, 
 and I left the situation. 
 
 ^ On the day I left the ship, I received a 
 letter from my brother, telling me that he had 
 heard from Uncle Richard Leighton, informing 
 him that I had left home, and begging him to 
 come to England to look after his affairs, which 
 Uncle Richard thought were being mismanaged. 
 My brother stated in his letter his intention 
 of obtaining leave, or, if he could not do 
 so, to sell his commission and go to England. 
 He advised me to keep my situation until I 
 heard from him again. 
 
 ^ It was on the island of Gilolo where I left 
 the ship, and, not long after it sailed, I fell into
 
 Tbe Pirate's Story. 2,01 
 
 bad company, composed of runaways from 
 Portuguese ships, and outcasts from Dutch 
 settlements in the neighbouring islands. These 
 men were under the command and in the 
 employ of a native of Java, who, in my opinion, 
 was a very remarkable man, 
 
 ' He was a pirate owning three pirogues, and 
 employed the crews by the month — thus 
 making all the profits and losses of the busi- 
 ness his own. He was a wonderful man. 
 He had the most courage, energy, firm- 
 ness, skill in the use of weapons, strength of 
 mind and body, and the most of everything 
 requisite for his business, of any person I ever 
 saw. For more than a year much of my time 
 was passed in a pirogue with that man, and 
 the startling adventures and deeds of wanton 
 cruelty I witnessed would fill a large volume. 
 His business used to be followed chiefly be- 
 tween the coasts of the Celebes and China;
 
 2,02 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 but he had been driven thence by English 
 cruisers, and was now forced to follow business 
 where there was less danger. 
 
 ' Whenever Ave were so situated that I could 
 not leave these men, I would have frequently a 
 strong desire to escape and lead a better life ; 
 but whenever we were in a place where I 
 could go where I pleased, I had no desire to 
 leave them. 
 
 ' One time we received intelligence of the 
 whereabouts of some Chinese junks, which 
 had been to a trading station on an island to 
 the north of New Britain, and taken aboard 
 the fleet a large quantity of valuable mer- 
 chandise. Our leader determined to capture 
 these junks, and we sailed to meet them. 
 
 ^ It was resolved that we should attack them 
 in the night and take them by surprise, but 
 in doing this we were surprised ourselves. 
 We found, to our cost, that we had not attacked
 
 The Pirate s Story. ^03 
 
 a fleet of junks manned by inoffensive Chinese, 
 but had to defend ourselves from about five 
 times our number of fierce Malays. A scene 
 of indescribable confusion took place. For 
 more than half an hour all that any man knew 
 was that he was fighting. I believe that our 
 leader sounded a retreat, but those on the 
 junks had grappled the pirogues, and we could 
 not get away from them. Instead of boarding 
 the junks, we had more than we could do to keep 
 he Malays from boarding us. I know not how 
 long this strife lasted, but before it was over, I 
 found the boat I was in separated from all 
 the others. It had got clear, and some one had 
 set the sail, by which the distance between me 
 and the others was fast increasing. Twelve 
 men were in the pirogue besides myself when 
 the strife began, and I was then the only person 
 standing. 
 
 * I was unwounded, yet had not been back-
 
 J204 Andrew D ever eh 
 
 ward in the strife. Some of my companions in 
 the other pirogues Avere still defending them- 
 selves, but I could do nothing towards saving 
 them, and, seeing the expedition had failed, I 
 allowed circumstances to take me safely out of 
 it. Two of my companions were alive and 
 moaning piteously. I examined their wounds, 
 but could do little for them, and they died 
 before morning. The next morning, at day- 
 light, I thrcvv over six bodies, four of which 
 were those of whom I had long been a com- 
 panion, and two were Malays. 
 
 ^ The next night I landed on the coast of 
 New Guinea, and in the morning came across a 
 tribe of natives by whom I was treated kindly. 
 The natives of New Guinea are not so bad as 
 they have been represented. They will board 
 a ship and kill all hands for the sake of plunder, 
 and they will attack a party of men landing on 
 their shore, but one man helpless and unarmed
 
 The Pirate s Story. ^05 
 
 falling into their bands will have no cause to 
 complain — at least I had not. 
 
 ' I have now told you how I came on the 
 island of New Guinea, and that is enough. 
 
 * The deeds of bloodshed and violence I 
 witnessed there, you may dislike as much to 
 hear as I to remember. 
 
 ^ One ship taken and plundered by the tribe 
 with whom I dwelt had on board a laro-e 
 
 o 
 
 quantity of books, which fell to my share of 
 the spoil. 
 
 ' By these books I kept up a knowledge of 
 my mother-tongue, and often used to read 
 them aloud, so that the mode of speaking it 
 might remain familiar. 
 
 ' I believe that the island of New Guinea, in 
 mineral wealth and fertility of soil, excels every 
 other country in the world for its size. 
 
 * I have left a wife and five children there, 
 and unless I find affairs in England very dif-
 
 2o6 A7idrew Deverel, 
 
 ferent from what I expect, I shall return. New 
 -^ Guinea is, for many reasons, a home that I pre- 
 fer to any other land I was ever in. 
 
 'If the men of capital and enterprise, of 
 
 that great nation to which I belong, knew of 
 
 I the immense sources of wealth to be met in 
 
 : New Guinea, a flourishing English colony 
 
 I w^ould soon be planted on its shores, and it 
 
 would become the most valuable of all the 
 
 English possessions. '
 
 20' 
 
 CHAPTEPv XXL 
 
 On arriving in San Francisco, Middleton, being 
 anxious to reach England as soon as possible, 
 took the first steamer to Panama. Deverel 
 wished to have accompanied him, but as he did 
 not "want to make another voyage to California, 
 he wished to settle his affairs before he left, and 
 this would detain him at least a fortnight. Pie 
 instructed Middleton when writing to him to 
 address his letters to the care of John Grey ; 
 and they parted with much regret, for they 
 never expected to meet again. 
 
 Deverel disposed of his water lots for sixty
 
 12 o 8 Andrew D ever el. 
 
 thousand dollars, and obtained fifteen thousand 
 more for the rancho. Having settled all his 
 business, he took a passage for Panama two 
 weeks after the departure of Middleton. On 
 reaching Panama he learned that the steamer 
 in which he intended to leave Chagres for 
 New Orleans would not sail for some days. 
 Panama being a more pleasant and healthy 
 place than Chagres, he preferred to spend the 
 time in Panama, and amused himself by visiting 
 different places in the vicinity of the city. 
 
 One day, while riding in the neighbourhood 
 of the city, he was suddenly seized with a 
 severe headache, and in a few minutes after 
 lost all control over himself and all recollec- 
 tion — he was unable to sit on his mule, and 
 fell from the saddle, but without sustaining any 
 injury. The mule returned to its stables 
 without its rider. 
 
 For two or three hours Andrew retained
 
 A Rohlers De7t. 509 
 
 strength to walk at a great speed, but had no 
 judgement to guide him in the way he should 
 take. He wandered far from the path in which 
 he had been riding, insensibly struggling 
 through thickly growing bushes, crossing deep 
 ravines and vine- and bush-clad hills. 
 
 As the sun was setting he arrived in a small 
 valley hid amongst the hills, where about an 
 acre of ground was cultivated in a negligent 
 unworkmanlike manner. 
 
 The valley was crossed by a small clear 
 stream, on the banks of which stood a long 
 low dwelling made of poles, canes, leaves, and 
 calico. 
 
 On approaching the house a man rushed out 
 with a gun, but seeing only one intruder, and 
 that one apparently unarmed, with an un- 
 covered head and dress torn to rags, the man 
 put down the gun and asked Devcrel in broken 
 English what he wanted. 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2,10 Andrew DevereL 
 
 To none of his questions coidd he obtain an 
 intelligible answer — not that Deverel could 
 not talk, for his tongue was moving inces- 
 santly, but one word seemed to refer to the 
 past, another to the future, and the next to 
 nothing. 
 
 The man soon comprehended what was 
 wrong with his visitor, and, with the assistance 
 of another man and a woman, he placed 
 Deverel on the ground with his face to the 
 earth, and then poured several buckets of 
 water over his head. This done, they took off 
 his boots and socks, and one of the men, with 
 a sharp knife, opened a vein in the sole of 
 one of his feet, taking about a pint of blood. 
 A cup of cold water was then given him to 
 drink. 
 
 He was then placed in a hammock, and in a 
 Few minutes was in a sound sleep. 
 
 Mateo Barri, the man who first accosted
 
 A Robber's De7i. 2,1 1 
 
 Deverel, was the owner of the ' rancho,' and 
 the husband of the woman. 
 
 He was an Itahan and a robber. For 
 nearly two years he had been successfully 
 plundering travellers going to and fro. He 
 owned mules, and often sought loading for 
 them in Cruces and Panama, but the trunks 
 and other property intrusted to his care were 
 generally taken to his home, unless they were 
 accompanied by the owner. When he went 
 into Panama, his mules were generally loaded 
 with wood, to give the appearance that he 
 was anxious to earn an honest living ; and so 
 adroitly did he manage his business, that he 
 was never suspected of any of the many 
 crimes he had committed. 
 
 Had his rancho been visited by the authori- 
 ties, they would have found nothing that would 
 have led them to suspect his business, unless 
 the fact of his living in a place so retired 
 
 F 2
 
 212 Andrew D ever el, 
 
 should give suspicion that something was 
 wrong. 
 
 All evidences of his profession were hidden 
 in a cave near his house, the entrance to the 
 cave being carefully concealed. 
 
 The contents of the trunks piled in this cave 
 were principally clothing, and how to dispose of 
 this property for anything like its value was a 
 source of great perplexity to Mateo. 
 
 He sometimes transacted a little business 
 with a London Jew who was in business in 
 Panama ; but this Jew, knowing something of 
 Mateo's business, used to take advantage of 
 him, and would not pay more than a fifth of the 
 real value for the property offered to him. 
 Knowing this, Mateo used to keep the most of 
 his ill-gotten treasures in the cave, trusting 
 that circumstances would some time give him 
 an opportunity of disposing of it. 
 
 Being of a miserly disposition, he took
 
 A Rolhers Den. ^13 
 
 much pleasure in visiting the cave and viewing 
 his accumulation. 
 
 From the trunks of those going to California 
 Mateo had often taken sums of money — ge- 
 nerally in silver — with which the owners had 
 not wished to be encumbered, and had left in 
 their luggage. 
 
 In the baggage of those returning from 
 California he often found nuggets of gold — 
 specimens of gold and quartz — parcels of black 
 sand containing much fine gold, china silks, and 
 other things of much value. 
 
 Where money was to be gained, or safety 
 insured, Mateo did not hesitate at murder. 
 Persons who had insisted on keeping in sight of 
 their luggage had been decoyed from the old 
 'military road,' taken near his rancho, and 
 there murdered. 
 
 He generally made his agreements with 
 travellers through other persons, and so
 
 214 Andrew Deverel. 
 
 manaojed to throw the dansrer of detection on 
 another. 
 
 Mateo was a large muscular man, with 
 quick, sharp, and restless eyes, and was about 
 thirty-six years of age. 
 
 Yvonne, his wife, was ten years younger ; 
 she looked careworn and melancholy, but 
 must at one time have been very beautiful. 
 Much of that beauty still remained, yet it 
 created a painful sensation in the beholder, 
 who could but read that its brightness had been 
 taken away, not by the wings of time, but by 
 the fire of sorrow. 
 
 Manuel, the comrade of Mateo, was a native 
 of New Granada, and was a man who would 
 not hesitate to commit any crime by which he 
 could gain the means to gamble at a Monte bank. 
 
 To say that Andrew Deverel slept that 
 night would not describe the state of insen- 
 sibility and stupor in which he existed till
 
 A Robber s De?i. 215 
 
 morning, when he was visited by Mateo, who 
 found him unable to rise from the hammock. 
 
 Manuel was called, and they took him from 
 his bed, poured cold water over his head for 
 several minutes, rubbed him dry, and placed 
 him a2:ain in the hammock. 
 
 Yvonne then came with some bread and 
 chocolate, of which she succeeded in getting 
 him to take a little. 
 
 The application of cold water had roused 
 him from the stupor, but he still continued 
 delirious, and all their endeavours to learn his 
 name, who were his friends, and where he 
 wished to go, were in vain. 
 
 That day, Mateo and Manuel went to 
 Panama. Mateo left instructions with Yvonne 
 to keep the patient's head continually wet 
 with cold water, and to give him plenty of 
 water to drink. 
 
 Andrew Devcrcl possessed a strong consti-
 
 2i6 Andrew DevereL 
 
 tution, that could successfully resist a strong 
 attack of fever. 
 
 Had his physical system been feeble, had 
 he been confined in a close room, and his head 
 not kept cool, he probably would have died in 
 a few hours. 
 
 In the afternoon he seemed much better. 
 His speech was more coherent, he knew him- 
 self, and appeared to know that something was 
 wrong. 
 
 Yvonne sat near him, agitating the lazy air 
 with a fan. She liked to gaze on him, for there 
 was something in his features that strongly 
 interested her, and turned her thoughts to for- 
 mer days. 
 
 Whilst Andrew Deverel lay in a dreamy 
 half-conscious state, his thoughts went back to 
 his early life; scenes and incidents long for- 
 gotten came to mind. Later events were blotted 
 from his memory, but he thought of his mother
 
 A Robber s Den, 217 
 
 and words she had spoken to him, her last fare- 
 well on her death-bed, and he recalled his 
 grief and the scene of her poor funeral on a 
 cold winter's day ; but he thought of everything 
 as though it had happened to some other 
 person. 
 
 He thought of his wanderings with the 
 two Italian girls, and recollected the scenes 
 and incidents of their journeyings. 
 
 While thinking of these he fixed his eyes 
 with an earnest gaze on Yvonne, who was 
 sitting by his side. 
 
 ' Yvonne,' said he in Italian, ^ what ails 
 you? How old you do look! Where is 
 Beatrice ? ' He said this without any feeling 
 of surprise, but as though it were part of a 
 dream. 
 
 ' Andrew I my long-lost — my ever-loved — 
 my never-forgotten Andrew ! I have found you 
 again,' exclaimed Yvonne in Italian, as she
 
 51 8 Andrew DevereL 
 
 threw her arms around, and nearly smothered 
 him in giving expression to her joy. 
 
 Remembering the condition her Andrew 
 was in, she controlled her emotions, and began 
 to talk of Beatrice. 
 
 ' You are certainly Yvonne,' said he, ' but 
 how old you look ! ' 
 
 ^ Si ! ' said she, with a sigh. ' We have not 
 seen each other for many long years. You 
 were a boy, and I was a girl, when we last saw 
 each other. You are now a young man, and I 
 am an old woman. Do you not remember 
 running away from us ? We were sleeping 
 in a barn, and when we woke up you were 
 gone. Little Beatrice cried all that day.' 
 
 ' Poor little Beatrice ! Where is she now ? ' 
 
 ' Gone home to beautiful Italy. She is 
 happy now. Do not say '' poor Beatrice," but 
 look at me and say poor Yvonne. Where did 
 you go when you left us in the barn ? '
 
 A Roihers Den, zig 
 
 ' I went down to Xew York, and went to 
 sea in a French ship as cabin-boy, where I 
 stayed a year.' 
 
 ' My poor Andrew, why did you leave us ? ' 
 
 ' I knew the life we were living could not 
 always last, and I wished to do something else. 
 I wanted to be a man.' 
 
 ^ But why did you not tell us you were going, 
 and say good-bye ? ' 
 
 ' I had not the courage to part with you in 
 that way, so I stole away in the night ; but I 
 have often thought about you, and wished to 
 see you again.' 
 
 ' What did you do after leaving the French 
 ship ? ' 
 
 * I lived a few months by my wits, which 
 could not have been great, for I nearly starved. 
 When the Mexican war commenced, I passed 
 for a year older than I was, being tall for my 
 age, and was taken for a volunteer. I stayed in
 
 2,zo Andrevo D ever el, 
 
 Mexico a few months after the war was over, 
 and then went to New Orleans. I afterwards 
 went to California — I am going home from 
 there. But where am I now, and how came I 
 here ? ' 
 
 Yvonne explained all she knew, told him that 
 he was very ill and must talk no more. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LON'DON 
 
 PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE ANB CO. 
 
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 Andrew Oeverel the history of an advent 
 
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