his arm the dread mark of Bowhani. Against such an enemy as this he
would have to be wary. If this enemy suspected his existence could he
not readily find means to effect his destruction forever? Who could tell
what mysterious allies this man might have? Cigole had tracked and
followed him with the patience and vindictiveness of a blood-hound.
There might be many such as he. He saw plainly that if he ever escaped
his first and highest necessity would be to work in secret, to conceal
his true name, and to let it be supposed that Louis Brandon had been
drowned, while another name would enable him to do what he wished.

The message of Despard was now a sacred legacy to himself. The duty
which the murdered man had imposed upon his father must now be inherited
by him. Even this could scarcely add to the obligations to vengeance
under which he already lay; yet it freshened his passion and quickened
his resolve.

The brig was a novelty to him here, and as day succeeded to day he found
occupation in searching her. During the hotter part of the day he busied
himself in shoveling out the sand from the cavern with a board. In the
cool of the morning or evening he worked at the hatchway. Here he soon
reached the cargo.

This cargo consisted of staves and short boards. All were blackened, and
showed traces of fire. The fire seemed to have burned down to a depth of
four feet, and two or three feet under the sides; then the water coming
in had quenched it.

He drew out hundreds of these staves and boards, which were packed in
bundles, six boards being nailed together as box-shooks, and thirty or
forty staves. These he threw out upon the deck and on the sand. What