Part 1

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VOL. II.--NO. 84. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR CENTS.

Tuesday, June 7, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per Year, in Advance.

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[Begun in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]

THE CRUISE OF THE "GHOST."

BY W. L. ALDEN,

AUTHOR OF "THE MORAL PIRATES," ETC.

CHAPTER V.

The sound of oars could be distinctly heard, and the boys listened breathlessly. The night was so dark that they could see but a little distance from their own vessel, and could only judge of the distance of the invisible row-boat, and the direction in which it was moving, by the sound. As they stood shivering in the cold mist, expecting every moment to be attacked by thieves, they could not be said to be enjoying themselves. They would have given a great deal to have been safe at home and in their warm beds. As they afterward acknowledged, they were a good deal frightened; and there are few men who, in the same circumstances, would not have felt that they were in a very awkward situation.

"You tell us what to do," whispered Tom to the Captain, "and we'll do it."

"If they come, we've got to fight," answered Charley; "for if we were to let them take our boat, we'd starve to death out here in the marshes."

The sound of the oars came nearer and nearer, and presently the boys caught a glimpse of a boat gliding through the water only a few rods away.

"Perhaps they won't see us," Harry whispered in Charley's ear.

At this moment the oars stopped, and a voice said, "Thar's that yacht belonging to them boys that I was telling you I see this mornin' down by Rockaway. Somebody must have piloted 'em, or they couldn't have got through the islands."

"Oh, go on," replied another voice. "We won't get to Amityville in half an hour if you stop to talk."

The oars resumed their regular dip; the row-boat disappeared in the darkness, and in a little while the silence was as complete as if there was no one within a league of the _Ghost_.

"Now we'll go to sleep again," said Tom, still speaking in a low voice; "though, come to think of it, my turn to watch must have come round by this time."

"It's just ten o'clock," replied Charley. "Well, we're more frightened than hurt; but the thieves may pay us a visit yet. When you call any of us, just remember that if you put your hand on a fellow's forehead, he will wake up cool and sensible; but if you shake him, he'll be very likely to jump, or sing out, or do something of the kind. Good-night all, and don't go to sleep on your watch, Tom."

Harry, Joe, and Charley crept back to their blankets, and prepared to sleep, while Tom, sitting on deck, tried to keep awake. What was very strange was that while Tom, whose duty it was to keep awake, grew horribly sleepy, the other boys, who had a right to go to sleep, found themselves as broad awake as they had ever been in their lives. No one spoke for fear of keeping his neighbor awake; but the frequency with which somebody rolled over, or drew a long and tired breath, showed that there were no sleepy boys in the _Ghost_'s cabin. By-and-by Charley, whose hearing was very sharp, thought that he heard oars once more. Making his way softly on deck, he listened, and found that he was not mistaken. He woke Tom, who was sleeping serenely, and sent him to rouse the other boys; but they had already heard the whispered order of the Captain, and were on deck before they could be called.

"It may be another fisherman going home late," said Charley. "I wish they'd keep better hours, and not rouse people up at midnight. There, I see them. They're coming this way, I think."

A row-boat, approaching by a different channel from that which the fishermen had followed, was now dimly visible. She was rowed by two pair of sculls, and a third man could be seen sitting in the stern-sheets.

"Keep down out of sight, boys," whispered Charley. "Perhaps they'll say something if they think we're asleep."

"There she is; I see her," said one of the men, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the listening boys.

"Them boys are all asleep," said another man. "Row up to her easy, and we can dump 'em on to the meadow before they get waked up."

"Boat ahoy!" called out Charley, springing up. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"We're the United States frigate _Constitution_," replied one of the men. "We want to hear you chaps say your catechism." So saying, the men resumed their oars, and rowed toward the _Ghost_.

"Keep off," cried Charley. "If you come near us, we will fire into you. I give you fair warning."

The men who were rowing stopped for a moment, but the man in the stern, ordering them to row on, fired a pistol, the bullet of which whistled over Tom's head, and made him "duck" in the most polite manner. On came the row-boat, but Charley, who had hastily pointed the gun, scratched a match, and stood sheltering the flame with his hand, and waiting for the sulphur to burn out, as coolly as if he were in his own room. In a few seconds the blue flame was succeeded by the bright glow of the burning wood, and touching the match to the priming, Charley stepped hastily back, while the explosion that followed sounded to the excited boys like the roar of a thirty-two-pounder.

One or two of the marbles hit the row-boat, for the rattle made by them was distinctly heard; but most of Charley's canister-shot flew over the heads of the men without touching them. They were, however, thoroughly alarmed, and putting the boat around, rowed rapidly away. Charley had dropped on his knees the instant after he had fired, and was now reloading with the utmost haste, ramming down a handful of nails that he drew from his pocket, where he had kept them in reserve, wrapped in a torn piece of his handkerchief.

"Hurrah!" shouted Harry. "We've beat 'em. I only wish we had sunk their boat."

"That wouldn't have done us any good," said Charley. "If they don't come back again, I shall be entirely satisfied."

"What a bang the old cannon made!" exclaimed Joe. "I wonder if we really hit anybody?"

"If we had, we would have known it," replied Charley. "I think we've frightened them away. They know that every yacht generally carries a gun, and they won't suspect that we hadn't anything but marbles to fire at them. If we do have to fire again, we shall do some mischief, for I've loaded the gun with nails, and they will do twice as much execution as marbles."

Of course nobody thought of trying to go to sleep again; so the crew of the _Ghost_ sat on deck with water-proof blankets over their shoulders, and waited for the renewal of the attack. They grew tired of waiting after a while, and Harry proposed that they should hoist the jib, and with the light west wind that was blowing, try to make their way out from among the islands into the open bay. "We know," added he, "from what the fisherman said that we are in the channel, and we must be nearly out of this wilderness, for don't you remember the man he had with him expected to get to Amityville in half an hour? So let's go on. It will be easier than waiting here all night."

The suggestion was warmly received, and it was not long before the canvas cabin was stowed away, and the _Ghost_ was slowly feeling her way through the darkness. Charley did not venture to hoist the mainsail, for he was afraid of running aground so hard that it would be difficult to get the boat afloat again. Joe stood at the bow, and tried to see as far ahead as possible, while the other boys kept a look-out on all sides for the piratical row-boat. After a little while the channel grew broader, and they were congratulating themselves that they must be nearly out of the archipelago, when once more the dip of oars was heard right astern.

"Haul up that mainsail, the port watch, just as quick as you can," cried the Captain. "The sheet's all slack, and you can get it up. Bring the gun aft here, Joe, and mind you don't drop it overboard."

Had there been more wind, the two boys could not have got up the mainsail with the wind nearly aft; but as it was, they had it up and the sheet trimmed in almost as little time as it takes to tell of it. In the mean time Joe had lugged the cannon aft, and put it on the new "over-hang," or extension, that Charley had added to the boat. He then took the helm for a minute, while Charley primed the gun, and put his hat carefully on the touch-hole, so as to keep the powder dry.

"Now lie down on the bottom boards, all of you," said the Captain. "If those fellows are after us, they'll probably use their pistols, and there's no use in more than one of us getting hit." Charley himself, like a prudent fellow, managed to dispose the greater part of his body below the wash-board, though he had to keep his head and one arm above the deck.

The _Ghost_ moved much more rapidly now that her mainsail was drawing, but the oars were evidently coming nearer. Before long a pistol-shot was fired, which was evidently meant for the _Ghost_, although the bullet flew wide of the mark. Charley sailed the boat without feeling the least alarm, for he knew that the chance of his being hit by a pistol-bullet from a boat that was too far off to be in sight was extremely small. But the thieves were steadily gaining on the yacht, and when they finally came in sight, it was plain that they were rowing their very hardest.

Charley rose up, and steadying the tiller between his knees, told Joe to light a match, and keep the flame out of sight until he should call for it. The man in the stern of the row-boat, who was apparently the leader of the gang, called out to him to throw the _Ghost_ up into the wind, or it would be the worse for him. Charley paid no attention to him, but carefully taking the match from Joe, leaned down, aimed the gun, and fired.

The aim was excellent, and luck was also on the side of the _Ghost_. The load of nails struck the row-boat, which was now not more than forty feet away, full in the bow, and tore a hole in her, scattering a shower of splinters among the men, at least one of whom was wounded, for he cried out, "I'm hit." The rowers instantly dropped their oars, and from the excited exclamations which they made, it was evident that the boat was in danger of sinking.

"Come up, boys," shouted Charley, gayly. "We've beat them this time, sure. They won't fire any more pistols at us to-night."

The boys sprang up, and gave three cheers; but as the last cheer was still ringing in the air, there was a heavy crash, and the enthusiastic boys fell one over another into the bottom of the boat, while a hoarse voice shouted: "Get out of that! What do you mean by running into us?" In their excitement they had allowed the _Ghost_ to run directly into a large oyster sloop that was lying at anchor without any light in her rigging.

Making the _Ghost_ fast to the sloop, Charley climbed on board the latter, and quickly explained to the three men who were on deck how it happened that they were sailing about the bay at two o'clock in the morning.

"So it was you that was firing, was it?" said the captain of the sloop. "Well, now, I want to know! Fired a cannon right slap into 'em, did ye? Well, now, that beats me."

"It beat them too," remarked Joe.

"You didn't kill none of 'em, did ye?"

"No, and I don't think we hurt anybody very much; but we knocked a hole in their boat," said Charley.

"Hope you did. They won't drown, for they're regular wharf rats; but the sheriff'll catch 'em on the meadows to-morrow. How big a ball does that gun of yourn carry?"

"We hadn't any balls, so we fired a lot of nails wrapped up in a handkerchief at them. I shouldn't have thought the nails would have held together, but they did, and I know there was a hole knocked in the boat by the way the men acted."

"They're the same fellows that stole Sam Harris's cat-boat last week; but I guess they won't steal no more--not for the present."

The oystermen who had been awakened by the cannon, and had supposed that it was fired by some steamer that had run ashore on the beach, were now ready to turn in again. The captain of the sloop told the boys to lower their sails, and to make the yacht fast to the sloop's stern.

"You won't be troubled no more to-night, and we'll tow you over to Amityville to-morrow morning, if you want to go there," said the captain. "But you'd better go to sleep, now. There'll be somebody on the look-out on board the sloop, so you needn't be afraid of nothing."

Thanking him heartily, the boys went back to their own vessel, lowered the sails, and making the painter fast to the stern rail of the sloop, prepared to take a morning nap. They did not take the trouble to rig up the canvas cabin, but covered themselves with their water-proof blankets, leaving only their heads exposed to the dew.

"That's the first time I've been under fire," remarked Charley, as he tucked the water-proof around him.

"Weren't you afraid when they fired at you?" asked Joe.

"Yes. I suppose I was; that is, I didn't want to be hit, and I wished I was where nobody would fire pistols at me; but I knew that there wasn't one chance in a hundred that I would be hit."

"I hate this whole fighting business," said Tom. "Last year we had a fight with tramps, and now we've had this fight. Who would ever have thought that peaceable boys, who don't do any mischief or interfere with anybody, would have to have real fights with tramps and pirates? If we'd killed one of those fellows, it would have spoiled all our fun. I couldn't have enjoyed the cruise one bit."

"Well, we didn't kill anybody, and there isn't the least chance that we'll have any more fighting," said Charley.

"We owe our getting out of trouble to-night to you, Charley," said Harry. "If old Admiral Farragut had been here, he couldn't have done better than you did."

"That's so," cried Tom and Joe together.

"Oh, come, now," said Charley, "you're too complimentary. I was Captain, and it was my duty to do what I could to keep the boat from being stolen. Any one of you fellows would have done just the same in my place. Good-night, all. I'll be asleep in three minutes, if you don't talk to me."

He was probably as good as his word; but his companions, who, now that the danger was over, found that they were very tired, were asleep before they had time to calculate whether or not three minutes had come and gone.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

MAJOR SERPA PINTO.

The latest of the great African explorers is a young Portuguese officer, Major Serpa Pinto, who in 1877 and 1878 crossed Africa from Benguela, a Portuguese settlement on the west coast, to the mouth of the river Zambezi, on the east coast. His journey was not as long or as hazardous as those made by Cameron and Stanley, and part of it was through a region already explored by Livingstone. Still, Major Pinto saw many wonderful things which other explorers had not seen, and made valuable discoveries concerning the sources of the great rivers Coanza and Zambezi. Many African travellers have heard from the natives stories of a tribe of white Africans, but no one fully believed those stories until Major Pinto actually came into the region where the white Africans live, and saw, as he tells us, quite a number of them.

Not the least remarkable of Major Pinto's exploits was his discovery of a new cure for the rheumatism. One night a terrible thunder-storm began soon after dark. It was by far the worst storm that the Major had ever seen, and such quantities of rain fell that the ground became soaked, and wherever any one trod, the water spurted up as it does from a wet sponge when it is squeezed. The traveller took a severe cold, and in the morning he found himself suffering from a violent attack of rheumatism. He was unable to move hand or foot, and was consumed by a raging fever. Nevertheless, his men put him on a litter, and carried him on his way, until they came to a broad river just below a cataract.

The only means of crossing this river was a little worn-out canoe which was so leaky that the natives had to thrust moss into the cracks to keep the water from fairly rushing into it. In the bottom of this canoe, which was only large enough to hold two men, Major Pinto was carefully laid, and then a stout negro undertook to paddle it across the river. The rain had swollen the river so that it was full of whirlpools, that caught the canoe, and whirled it round and round. The negro worked hard with his paddle, but he had no control over the canoe, which was gradually drawn into the rough water at the foot of the cataract. Major Pinto tried to move so that he could look over the side of the canoe, and see the danger which threatened him, but it caused him such agony to move even his little finger, that he was compelled to give up the attempt. Meanwhile the canoe was leaking so that it was nearly half full of water, and the negro, telling his helpless passenger that it was necessary to lighten the frail craft in order to keep it from sinking, jumped out and swam ashore. Major Pinto, thus deserted and left to his fate, fully expected to be drowned. Presently a big wave poured into the canoe, which instantly sank, leaving the Major in the water. To his great surprise, he began to swim vigorously, holding his watch out of the water with one hand. Although a moment before he had not been able to move a muscle, he swam ashore without the least difficulty, and when he landed on the bank his fever had vanished, and he had not a particle of rheumatism left. This was a most astonishing cure, but it probably would not prove successful anywhere except in Central Africa. At all events, it would be hardly safe for an American boy suffering with inflammatory rheumatism to have himself thrown into a deep river.

While living in the country of Bihé--a part of Africa near the sources of the river Coanza--Major Pinto was visited by a magician, who wanted to sell him anointment that would make it impossible for a rifle-bullet to hit him. The magician insisted that if any man were to rub a little of this precious ointment on his body, he would be perfectly safe, no matter how often his enemies might fire at him. As a proof of the power of this ointment, the magician said that the earthen vase which held it had been fired at thousands of times, but that no man could possibly hit it.

Major Pinto said that if he were to shoot at the vase, he rather thought he could hit it, and the magician told him that he might try his very best, but that the powerful ointment would turn his bullet aside. Now the magician did not know that the Major could shoot any better than the natives, and when he placed the vase eighty yards away, he felt certain that the white man could not hit it. Major Pinto took careful aim, fired, and knocked the vase into a thousand pieces. The natives, who had always believed in the power of the ointment, set up a shout when they saw what had happened, and the magician, knowing that his trade in ointment was ruined, slunk away, and never came back to demand payment for his broken vase.

Like all African travellers, Major Pinto had a great deal of trouble with his men, who were all native Africans. They were constantly stealing his property, getting drunk, and running away. He had, however, one faithful man, who was brave, honest, and devoted to his master. This man's name was Augoustino; he saved his master's life on several occasions, and to him is due almost as much credit for the success of the exploration as to Major Pinto himself.

THE SWEETEST MONTH.

BY M. E.

"Tell me, tell me, silver moon, Which of all the months discloses Greatest sweetness?" "Dreamy June, Summer's darling," said the moon, "Month of roses."

ANOTHER RIP VAN WINKLE.

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.

"March!" said Spring. Quickly melting, the ice ran away, And the frost hurried out of the ground, And the leaves, brown and dry, dropped with Autumn's "good-by," With the wind went a-skurrying round. And from the deep mud in a low, swampy place A turtle his long neck thrust out, And winking and blinking his funny round eyes, He lazily peered all about.

Then he dragged from the mire--like a snail on his back He bore it--his box-like abode, And patiently climbed for an hour or more Up the bank, till he came to the road. There an old man he met, who was crooked and gray, And who walked with a stout oaken cane. Cried the turtle, "Hello! please tell Ned that I'm here, And am waiting to see him again."

"Who's Ned?" asked the man. "Just examine my top (I suppose you have learned how to spell), And a name and some figures he carved with his knife When we parted, you'll find on my shell." The old man he stooped with a grunt, for he was Decidedly lame in each knee. And he read, "August 1st, 1820--Ned Mott," And then chuckled, "Good gracious! that's me."

"You!" the turtle exclaimed. "Why, Ned Mott is a boy Whose laugh can be heard for a mile; With hair brown as earth, and with eyes bright as mine-- You! Excuse me, I really _must_ smile." "I _am_ he." "It can't be." "Yes, it can. Don't you see, Many years since you saw him have sped?" "What's years? I know nothing 'bout years, but I know That _you_ are not rosy-cheeked Ned.

"He's a _boy_, and he wears a small cap with a peak, And in summer picks berries called whortle. Oh! the stupidest thing is a stupid old man." "You mistake, 'tis a stupid old turtle. _I'm_ Ned Mott." "You are _not_." "If I'm not, I'll be shot." "Then be shot," and he dropped with a thud, That sleepy, that ancient, that obstinate turtle, Head-foremost back into the mud.

LAWN TENNIS.

BY SHERWOOD RYSE.

When I say that the game of lawn tennis was invented by an English gentleman some seven or eight years ago, I am quite prepared to hear from some of my readers, whose favorite study is history, that it is much older than that, and was known both in France and England as long ago as the reign of Henry III. And indeed the correction will have much truth in it, for tennis was known even further back than that. People who always want to get at the very beginning of everything claim that the game, or something very like it, was played in the reign of the cruel Emperor Nero, who, you will remember, fiddled while Rome was burning before his eyes. Fiddling, perhaps, was not his only amusement, and it is quite possible that in the interval between one horrible act of cruelty and another, the Emperor indulged in a game of tennis. But Nero is not at all a pleasant person to associate with such a beautiful game, so, if you please, we will leave history to the historians, and see what our modern great-great-grandchild of the old tennis is.

Those of my readers who live in or near large cities will probably know that it is an out-door game played with a racquet and a ball, but for the benefit of those who do not know it, I will give a few hints as to the laying out of the court, and the implements necessary for the game.