ead. His face was the color of parchment,
wrinkled with age, but I knew him at once as Spanish. A uniform cap
lay beside him, and I stopped just long enough to scan his features.

"Here, Sam, do you know this fellow."

The negro crept up behind me reluctantly enough, and stared at the
upturned face over my shoulder.

"My Gaud, sah, he wus de ol' Captain."

"The one you served under? What was his name?"

"Paradilla, sah; damn his soul!"

"A slaver, I suppose; well, he's run his last cargo of niggers. Let's
look into the rooms."

They were empty, all in disorder, but unoccupied. In what was
evidently the Captain's room I discovered a pricked chart and a
log-book, with no entry in it for three days. Without waiting to
examine these I stowed them away in my pocket and returned to
Paradilla, relieved to learn our labor aft was so light, and eager to
have it over with. Some physical persuasion was necessary to compel
Sam to assist me, but finally he took hold, and between us we forced
the stiffened form of the Captain through the open after port, and
heard it splash into the sea astern. Then I closed the cabin door, and
led the way forward.

To my great relief the hold was empty, although the smell arising
through the partially opened hatch was stifling, the reminder of a
cargo lately discharged. There were two dead seamen in the forecastle,
both swarthy fellows, with long Indian hair. I never saw a dirtier
hole, the filth overpowering, and once satisfied that both men were
beyond help, I was content to lower the scuttle and leave them there.
God! it was a relief to return once more to the open deck and breathe
in the fresh air. Schmitt was holding the schooner close up in the
wind, which, however, was barely heavy enough to keep the sails full.
Yet at that the sharp-nosed craft was making the best of it, leaving a
long wake astern, the waves cresting within a few feet of her rail as
she swept gloriously forward. I leaned over, and hailed the boat,
towing below.

"Come aboard, Watkins," I called sharply. "Pass the lady up first, and
turn the boat adrift."

"What is she, sir?"

"An abandoned slaver. I'll tell you the story later. Come aboard."

"Ay, ay, sir."

I caught Dorothy's hands and aided her over the rail, the schooner
rode steady and she stood still grasping me, her eager eyes on the
deck aft. Then they sought my face questioningly, the seamen beginning
to gather between us and the rail.

"Why was t