MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

Evening Star, Issue 7628, 2 June 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

BOOK I. THE BOMBARDMENT OF ALEXANDRIA. CHAPTER VII. THE AMERICAN MARINES. Iu the street, however, there are one or twe rioters who, on seeing them, set up a shout, but run away, for this night's fight has made Errol a terror to his assailants. "Now's our chance ! Run !" he whispers, and begins to move quickly ; but she hangs back and eays : " Where's Martin ?" " If Martin is not here she is lost. By heavens ! they are in the house now ! " he exclaims, as a yell of disappointed rage comes from the rabble in the rooms from which they have fled. " Come, it's our only chance!" Thus abjured, Lady Annerley darts after him, but the delay has been fatal. As they move along, a baud of Arabs, Nubians and Fellaheen dart round the corner of the street and head oil'the retreat. At this Errcl clinches his teeth and cries to her: " Follow me closely, I'll cut our way through !' and runs towards them. They fire at him, but their old matchlocks and superannuated pistols miss him. As he advances, he turns loose his Remington and wounds two. But now Lady Annerley hears a noise behind her and looking back sees they are surrounded ; for another crowd of Moslems headed by Niccovic in peraon are iasuing from the house. This only makes Errol hasten to meet the first party, wishing to break through them before the others come up. None of the Arabs fire now, perhaps afraid of shooting eacli other, perhaps because Niccovie cries out from his bandaged mouth jargon t " Don't kill the woman, she is too valuable." If they don't fire, Errol does, and drops another before they get to him. Then he suddenly pulls Lady Annerley behind him into a retreating corner made by the joining of two houses, and thus, having his enemies in front of him, opens with his revolver. Two get to him a little quicker than the rest; one a wiry Arab, the other a savagelooking black. The Arab he shoots. As he does so, Lady Annerley sees the black raise his scimitar to strike the life she has learned to love, and a mist comes before her eyes; but in that mist she sees her own revolver raised and smoke coming from its mouth, and, as this clears away, the. black is dead. To do this she has to step a little out from the wall, and someone coming behind her, seizes her round the waist and drags her backwards, away from the man who is fighting for her. She tries to get her hand behind her to shoot the wretch who now actually carries her along with brutal jeers and mocking laughter; but in vain. And now others join him, foolishly coming in front of her and getting winged for their carelessness, for her arm is free enough to shoot before her. All this she does silently and hopelessly ; the first because she knows that to call Errol's eyes from his own personal assailants will be his death ; the second because she sees that every moment more foes bar her way to his protection. Till at last her five shots are all gone and she despairs ; for Niccovie's face is leering into hers and the next instant her pistol will be torn from her. This makes her cksperate, and the revolver's muzzle, cold and chilly as the death it gives, is pressed against her forehead, for the last moment is come, the last bullet is hers. But as her linger presses the trigger his words buzz in her head : " Wait till the very last! " She gives herself five seconds more, and in them think* she sees the little Arab boy hanging to Niccovie's coat-tails and that a cheer is sounding round the corner ; and it is Anglo-Saxon, and she turns her head, and the shot that was to kill her she fires into the Greek's smiling face. While as she does so a crashing volley sounds in her ears, and there are blue, uniforms and English voices and rough but tender hands about her, and a dandy lieutenant shoots with one hand the man who holds her, and catches her as she falls with the other. Panting and dazed, and only kept upon her feet by this young officer's arm, Sarah Annerley sees in the hurly-burly around her the blue uniforms make short work of tho Moslem crowd ; the lieutenant shooting two as he holds her. Now, all this makes quite a cloud of smoke and dust, and as it clears away she notes Niccovie, holding a broken jaw in one hand and a large sword in the other, pursuing little Ammed, who is dodging for his life. She cries to the lieutenant " Save the boy!" He runs after the Levantine, calling to him to surrender, but Niccovie only answers with another slash at the Arab urchin. Then the officer's great navy revolver gives a puff, and, though thirty yards away, the Greek renegado gives a yell, and turns round to find out what hurts him, but dies too soon to be quite Bure. During this Errol has staggered up to Lady Annerley, and they both sit down on a couple of stones, too exhausted to do anything but gasp for breath and wipe away the dust and sweat of battle. She looks at him, and, seeing no new wounds except a slight scratch upon his forehead, becomes very happy. Heading his men, the officer soon clears Abdallah's home of rioters, chasing them from the rooms to the roof, and then over the neighboring housetops. Returning from this to the street, this young gentleman (for he is hardly twenty-five), who has fought his fight in a rough-ami ready, free-and-easy sort of a way, produces a silk handkerchief, brushes the dust off his patent-leather boots, and becomes a dandy once more. Approaching them, he gives the Englishwoman a military bow, takes off his cap, and says: "Lady Annerley, I believe. Permit me to introduce myself," and producing a card-case, he presents : - j Mr Houston Potter, U.S. Ship Quiimibavff, As she has been looking at the young man, the lady he addresses has discovered something in his fine face that makes it familiar. She reads his card, and all this becomes clear to her. She cries: " Why you're Miss Potter's brother—the naval officer !" " Yes, I'm Miss Potter's brother," returns the gentleman, with a little laugh. "At home I'm Mr Potter of Texas' son; in Europe, Miss Potter of Texas' brother. The only place I have an identity is on the ship's books." "The fate of being related to such distinguished people*" smiles Lady Annerley, for Miss Potter is the reigning American belle in Europe, and the whole of fashionable France and England are bowing to her great wealth and greater beauty. " You should be proud " but here she appears to be astonished, and cries : " You're American !" " Certainly. These are American marines !" and as he points to his men she, for the first time, notes that their uniforms are not English. "You see," he goes on, "I'm not a marine, I'm a line officer. I volunteered to come on shore on your account. Ida, my sister, wired me from Paris by the telegraph { ship, the Cheltnam, which has picked up the European cable, that you were here, and to look after you; and I might havo looked after you a long time, had it not been for little Ammed waiting for us at the Marina, giving me your note and begging me 'Quick ! Save the beautiful lady !'" With this he pats tho Arab boy's head, who gazes proudly at Lady Annerley, then grins in the lieutenant's face, and cuts a caper. For he has just strolled up to them, grand in the possession of the sword of the j late Niccovie, which he carries over his shoulder. Here the lady says suddenly : "Excuse »e, Mr Potter, this is Mr Errol, the gentleman who fought for me all night." " Then," remarks the American, " I congratulate you and your champion. I've been

admiring his handiwork up there," and he points to the house of Abdallah the Moor. " You never learned that pistol shooting on the quarter-deck," returns Errol as the two men shake hands. " No," replies the American, "my father taught me that as a boy, in Texas. Can we smoke, Lady Annerley ?" Then he produces his cigar case and offers one to Errol. Permission being given, the two young men light up, and the lieutenant says: "I must call my men back—they are fighting too much and killing too many. We only came ashore to save life, but the sights we saw as we forced our way here have made the men very savage. They've seen dead Christian women and wounded little children till they are ready to butcher every Moslem looter in Alexandria. Might I oiier you my escort back to the house? You may wish to change your dress ;" this last a little significantly. " I've lots of clothes at the Hotel de l'Europe. Let's go there. Oh, for the luxury of something clean?" cries Lady Annerley. Then catching the lieutenant's eye she follows it, and looking at herself for the first time this morning, hangs her head and mutters "Oh, how awful!" This is with a big blush that they don't see, her face being too dirty. For she is one grime of powder smoke ; a lock of her beautiful hair has been singed off by the flame of the lamp that she threw into the court yard ; her dress is torn to rags, and there is a great red burn upon one of her shapely but now black and dirty arms. "No," said Errol grimly, judging her thought. "You're not the woman of fashion of three days ago." Here she takes a look at Errol, and cries, laughingly, " But you're worse !" for he is simply a background of dirt daubed with blood. But the sight of his blood makes the laugh leave her voice, which becomes so tender that it attracts young Potter's attention as she goes on : " Wounded, and all for me?" " Oh, I'm quite right," says Krrol, getting on his feet, but so stiffly that the American puts his arm around him, for which Lady Annerley's eyes thank him. Lady Annerley's thoughts having gone back to dress, next come to her maid, and she cries: " Oh, poor Martin ! she was left in the house !" j " Your servant is all right." " Thank Heaven !" for in this moment of safety she thinks kindly even of Martin's rears. " But your dresses are all gone." "Gone?" " Yes. The Hotel de l'Europe and the whole Frankish quarter are nothing but blazing ruins !" llere the lieutenant points to the smoke, and after a moment suggests : " If they are saved, your dresses will all be very black." Then thinks he has made a faux pan, and stammers a little as he says : "I—l beg your pardon, Lady Annerley. I —I had forgotten you're in mourning. Your father, Sir Jonas Stevens, died in Italy." " Yes, only three weeks ago. I came here direct from his death-bed." As she mut'ers this the woman's eyes turn to Errol with a beseeching, appealing, apologetic glance. She says : "Remember your promise!" " Oh, about that packet ?" "Yes; we both live now!" And she looks at him as if that meant a great deal in their future. "Of course, I'll get it for you. It's in my vest pocket in the house." 'Then they all stroll up the street and into the court yard ; the lieutenant, careless of his uniform, helping Errol, who walks quite stithy, but says he'll be all right in a week. And the conversation becomes very animated and full of laughter, for the sun seems to shine very brightly in Alexandria this morning on Lady Annerley and Errol; and they feet as if they had come a long and dangerous journey from a far country, where death has been close about them, and the world they have come to again is a very joyous and happy one, as they listen to the whinny and braying of Ammed's donkeys in the stable, and the chirping of the birds in the court yard. Then Lady Annerley tells Errol that he must eome to Europe and she will give him the entrie to the world of fashion—her world. This he says he'll do, after he has returned to Australia to see his father, who never leaves that country. For he is very much flattered and rather delighted, as what young man wouldn't be wich one of the queens of the beau monde half begging him, half caressing him to visit her ? But this mention of his father causes her to start and say: "Your promise, quick!" "Of course!" and he turns toward the stairs. She is about to go with him, but the lieutenant stops her, saying : " The sights down here are bad, those above are worse; by daylight they would shock you." " I'll Mug it down to you." " Perhaps I'd better go for you ; you're not quite up to much exertion," suggests young Potter. " No, I can do it; I've got some other things to find," said Errol halfway up the stairs, and seeing the maid on the balcony laughs: "Hello, Martin, all right after all ?" " Yes, sir, I'm comfortable," grunts the servant girl, "except as my boots is bloody !" Passing on, Errol enters the house, while Martin remains on the balcony giggling at young Ammed, who is getting his donkeys out of the stable and decorating them with the strings of bells of which they have been denuded, while Lady Annerley and young Potter chat together in the court yard below. They are talking of his sister, and the lady is saying : " Now you are to visit me also," when the noise of struggle and a smothered cry come from the open window, and Martin on the balcony is yelling like one possessed. In two bounds the lieutenant is up the stairs and in the house; two seconds after his pistol speaks. Lady Annerley hurries after him, but he meets her at the door and she his face is pale. " You'd be'.t > int come in," he says in a low voice. " What do you mean ?" " These things happen so suddenly sometimes—in war." "It was Osman killed Mr Errol!' cnes Martin. "I saw it through the window!" "You idiot!" exclaimed the lieutenant, " you have killed her I" For Sarah Annerley, who had fought through all the carnago and bloodshed of that awful night in grim silence, has now uttered a terrible cry and fallen senseless upon the pile of corpses in front of the door. Calling Ammed to summon the sergeant in charge of his men, he picks up the English lady, carries her into the main apartment, and says to Martin savagely: " Get some water and bring her to. The man needs my attention first"; then goes to Errol, who lies moaning in the next room, a, terrible knife wound in his side. As he is making his examination, the sergeant comes to him and touches his cap. " I told you to clear the house of rioters, and you left a man in it," says the lieutenant, sharply. " Yes, sir, Mr Errol's dragoman." " How do you know that?" " He showed me the document by which he was hired. When I tackled him here he was quietly fixin' his boss's clothes!" With this the sergeant of marines points to the Australian's coat and vest that lie near the wounded man. " I shall hold you responsible for the absolute obedience of my orders. Get me the paper by which the scoundrel proved his sto'ry to you !" " How can I ? It's in his pocket, and he's skipped !" mutters the sergeant, bewildered. "You'll find his body at the bottom of that flight of steps !" replies Potter, pointing to the stairway leading to the private door. As the soldier is about to go to Osman's body, the lieutenant calls him back and says : "On second thoughts biing me all the papers on the corpse—all." Then the men carry Errol down to the Marina, followed by Ammed and Martin. Mr Potter, by the aid of the Arab boy's donkeys, gets Lady Annerley to the boats also, though she is half fainting, half crazy, and wildly whispers things in the lieutenant's ear which make that young man open his eyes. On shipboard the surgeon looks at the wounded Australian and says he may live, but not in this hot climate,

So it comes to pass two days after this that the P. and 0. steamer Calcutta being ready to sail, Lady Annerley, pale, careworn, loveworn, the ghost of her former beautiful self, stands on the landing-sUge to bid good-bye to the Arab boy aud Mr Potter. She has not the strength to say much, but she pats the little gamin's head and tells him he is to be educated (she has arranged this with the English Consul), and taking the officer by the hand, she murmurs a blessing on him and the American marines who saved her aa they did many other Christian women in those days of riot and carnage, in that hot, looted Egyptian city. Mr Potter and the boy watch the receding steamer, as her big propeller drives her through the anchored fleets, en rovte. for Brindisi and Venice, in her main saloon Charley Errol, of Australia, wounded nigh unto death, and raving with the Nile fever, and a woman nursing him like an angel of mercy, and weeping over him and begging him to live for her sake; then wildly swearing he shall not die—this, the only man she ever loved. The Calcutta fades from view, and Ammed, chinking in his pockets the plethora of coin Lady Annerley has put in them, says quietly: "The beautiful lady's tears are pearls, but she has no more." "No," mutters the lieutenant, gloomily, "she's hit too hard." Then he takes to meditating in a cynical way upon the affair, thinking : " George ! she's been a widow eighteen months—a widow, with a title and twenty thousand pouuds a-year, and stood it out against every buck and blood in London and Paris; yet, that Australian, in one night's fighting, fought himself into her love —that's luck !" A minute after he givos a half sigh and mutters: "Quackenboss, our sawbones, says they'll toss him overboard between here and Brindisi. That isn't luck. I've half a mind to try and take his place. Wonder if this cable would get me leave on the ground of fa:..;!y business." With this he produces a message and reads : Pottersville, Texas, July 14, 1882. To Potter, U. S. ship Quinnebang, Alexandria. Worried about Ida. "Texas Sittings " says she can many a duke. Send the girl home right off. I'm afraid she's getting into bad company. Dad. " The dear old boy !" cries the lieutenant, and gives a shriek of laughter, but it is cut short by the sergeant of marines, who, saluting, says: " I've been on duty in the town; impossible to deliver these before. The papers found on the body of Osman, the dragoman !" Among these document* is the paclcet given by Lady Annerley to Errol, Die Australian. ( To be continued.)