enture," observed Jack, as they landed.
"Marion, I reckon you don't want another such."

"No, indeed!" replied the girl, with a shiver. "I don't believe I'll
ever go over to the old wreck again."

"It's a wondah dat wreck aint busted up long ago," put in Old Ben.

"It's a wonder the poor people around here haven't carried off the
wreckage for firewood, Ben," said Jack.

"Da is afraid to do dat, Massah Jack--afraid some ob de sailors wot was
drowned might haunt 'em."

"I see. Well, I don't think the wreck will last much longer," and with
these words Jack turned away to follow Marion to the plantation mansion,
to interview his foster mother concerning the particulars of the past.
Little did the lad dream of what an important part that old wreck was to
play in his future life.

CHAPTER V.

OLD BEN HAS A VISITOR.

St. John Ruthven was a young man of twenty-five, tall, thin, and with a
face that was a mixture of craftiness and cowardice. He was the son of a
half-brother to the late Colonel Ruthven and could boast of but few of
the good traits of Marion's family. He lived on a plantation half a mile
from the bay and spent most of his time in attention to his personal
appearance and in horseback riding, of which, like many other
Southerners, he was passionately fond.

It was commonly supposed that St. John Ruthven was rich, but this was
not true. His father had left him a good plantation and some money in
the bank, but the young planter was a spendthrift and his mother, who
doted on her son, was little better, and soon nearly every dollar which
had been left by the husband and father had slipped through their
fingers. More than this, St. John took but little interest in the
plantation, which gradually ran down until it became almost worthless.

"St. John, my dear, we must do something," the mother would say, in her
helpless way. "We cannot live like this forever."

"What shall I do?" would be the son's reply. "The plantation isn't worth
working and I have no money with which to buy another place. The niggers
are getting so they are not worth their keep."

"But you told me yesterday that we had less than a thousand dollars left
in the bank."

"It's true, too."

"What do you propose doing when that is gone?"

"Oh! our credit is still good," was the lofty answer.

"But that won't last forever, St. John."

"Something may turn up."

"Everything seems to prosper at Alice's place," went on Mrs. Mary
Ru