Once more at the bank, Mr. Gardner was disappointed to find that Emile had not returned, but instead, another scrap of paper was awaiting him, bearing these dreadfully significant words:
"They have stolen me away, to take me back to my native State, to answer for a fiendish crime of which I am not guilty. Send my wife after me as soon as—"
Here Emile had stopped for want of time. He had thrown the note into the hands of the same slave who had carried the first one.
"Take that to Gardner & Company, and they will pay you," he said, as the Tigress pushed from shore.
The ship had started; and Emile, alone in darkness and despair, tried vainly to conjecture whence this mysterious trouble had come, and what would be its probable result.
The captain of the Tigress, as has been said, was a mercenary and rapacious man, caring no more for a bleeding country than does a bird of prey for a bleeding dove. So long as he obtained the gold of his impoverished countrymen, and eluded the grasp of the blockading fleet that so vigilantly guarded every important port, he was contented. To the care of this man, this iron-hearted captain, Rebecca Mordecai had committed herself, in her endeavor, as she said, "to recall Emile Le Grande to the bar of justice."
"If you land me safely there, captain, I will give you gold. If you bring me safely back with the culprit, I will give you more."
Haralson, aware that the coffers in the Mordecai vault were well-filled with the coveted ore, pledged himself, and swore a terrible oath, that his ocean wanderer should accomplish this trip, even at the cost of the last drop of his heart's blood. How successful he was in landing and treacherously inveigling his victim into the ship, has been seen. Then, after two days of rather tempestuous sailing in a tropical sea, dodging here and there, for fear of being pounced upon by the maritime monsters he sought to elude, Haralson landed, at length, at an inlet, obscure but well- known to him, upon the low, sandy shore of the Palmetto State. With downcast heart, Emile once more set foot upon his native soil, and at the bidding of his captor followed sullenly in the way she led. Chagrined, stung, maddened almost, he trod the devious way that led him back once more-back, back, to the Queen City. Not back to his father's comfortable home, for that, alas! was unoccupied, and the family refugees in a foreign land. But back again, in a felon's manacles, to find lodgment in a felon's cell-back to solitude and despair, when at length, the grim old turnkey turned the grating bolt upon him, and he was left alone in prison.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE war still raged. Everywhere in all the beleaguered land, the tide of brothers' blood flowed apace. Bitterness grew with every hour, and not one heaven-toned voice was heard above the din of carnage, saying, "Stay the madness, and let the blood stop flowing." The end was not yet reached, the great problem of this unnatural conflict not yet solved. The bombardment of the Queen City still continued, though with little hope of its surrender. But the shelling went on, as though this murderous rain of death were but a merry pastime, on those summer days. The fort was now deemed impregnable; and yet the hope of its surrender was one that could not die in the hearts of the beleaguerers. Day after day, they assaulted and reassaulted, and day by day were filled with disappointment.