Cord and Creese | Page 5

in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only to communicate to your spirit what you ought to do.
"God bless you, dear boy, and farewell.
"Your affectionate father.
"RALPH BRANDON."
This letter was evidently written by fragmentary portions, as though it had been done at intervals. Some parts were written leisurely--others apparently in haste. The first half had been written evidently with the greatest ease. The writing of the last half showed weakness and tremulousness of hand; many words would have been quite illegible to one not familiar with the handwriting of the old man. Sometimes the word was written two or three times, and there were numerous blots and unmeaning lines. It grew more and more illegible toward the close. Evidently it was the work of one who was but ill able to exert even sufficient strength to hold a pen in his trembling hand.
In this letter there was folded a large piece of coarse paper, evidently a blank leaf torn from a book, brown with age, which was worn at the folds, and protected there by pieces of cotton which had been pasted upon it. The paper was covered with writing, in ink that was much faded, though still quite legible.
Opening this Brandon read the following:
[Illustration: Facsimile of handwritten page reading:
"One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles in countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like III needles from the sande.
"Ralphe Brandon"]

CHAPTER II.
A LIFE TRAGEDY.
Not a word or a gesture escaped Brandon during the perusal, but after he had finished he read the whole through twice, then laying it down, he paced up and down the room. His olive skin had become of a sickly tawny hue, his eyes glowed with intense lustre, and his brow was covered with those gloomy Napoleonic clouds, but not a nerve was shaken by the shock of this dread intelligence.
Evening came and night; and the night passed, and morning came, but it found him still there pacing the room.
Earlier than usual next morning he was at the office, and waited for some time before the senior partner made his appearance. When he came in it was with a smile on his face, and a general air of congratulation to all the world.
"Well, Brandon," said he, cordially, "that last shipment has turned out finely. More than a thousand pounds. And it's all your doing. I objected, but you were right. Let me congratulate you."
Something in Brandon's face seemed to surprise the old gentleman, and he paused for a moment. "Why what's the matter, my boy?" he said, in a paternal voice. "You have not heard any bad news, I hope, in that letter--I hope it's nothing serious?"
Brandon gave a faint smile.
"Serious enough," said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, "to put a sudden end to my Australian career."
"Oh no--oh no!" said the other, earnestly; "not so bad as that."
"I must go home at once."
"Oh well, that may be, but you will be back again. Take a leave of absence for five years if you wish, but don't quit for good. I'll do the business and won't complain, my boy. I'll keep your place comfortable for you till your return."
Brandon's stern face softened as he looked at the old man, whose features were filled with the kindest expression, and whose tone showed the affectionate interest which he felt.
"Your kindness to me, Mr. Compton," said he, very slowly, and with deep feeling, "has been beyond all words. Ever since I first came to this country you have been the truest and the best of friends. I hope you know me well enough to believe that I can never forget it. But now all this is at an end, and all the bright prospects that I had here must give way to the call of the sternest duty. In that letter which I received last night there came a summons home which I can not neglect, and my