The clipper ship Aurelian, one of the few survivors of the old West India trade, had sighted Sandy Hook, and was making New York harbor after a remarkable voyage from Belize.
The clipper ship Aurelian, one of the few survivors of the old West India trade, had sighted Sandy Hook, and was making New York harbor after a remarkable voyage from Belize.
The clipper ship Aurelian, one of the few survivors of the old West India trade, had sighted Sandy Hook, and was making New York harbor after a remarkable voyage from Belize.
Captain Hartley, her master, was eagerly watching the approaches to the harbor with his deck glass.
By his side stood a man of distinguished appearance.
He was tall, sinewy, and would have been considered handsome were it not for the yellow hue of skin which all travelers in tropical climes are bound to acquire.
Cecil Clifford had traveled the world over. His hobby was arch?ology, and as he was a man of large means and a member of many historical and scientific societies, he was able to pursue his researches to any extent.
He was the only passenger aboard the Aurelian, and was returning to New York from Honduras with a thrilling purpose in view.
What this purpose was only he and Captain Hartley knew.
2"I only hope that Mr. Parker received our cable from Havana, and will be at the wharf to meet us," remarked Captain Hartley.
"So do I," agreed Clifford. "Is it not possible that he will come down to meet us in a tug?"
The captain shook his head with a wry face.
"Humph!" he said; "you do not know Gilbert Parker. He is the most penurious man in America. Do you think he would put out the money to employ a tug? Depend upon it-never!"
"Yet our cablegram may excite his cupidity. Did you not specify that it was a matter of moment, involving perhaps millions?"
"I did, but I do not fancy he would heed that. He is a very close, snug man of business, this Gilbert Parker. The Aurelian is all the property he owns in the world and every cent of profit she turns him in from her voyages he with miserly proclivity stores away."
Cecil Clifford's face wore a determined expression.
"Very well," he said, resolutely. "If Mr. Parker does not see fit to lend the Aurelian for my purpose, I will buy, charter or build a vessel of my own!"
3Captain Hartley turned eagerly about.
"If you do that," he said with some excitement, "why may I not enter your service?"
"And leave Parker?"
The captain snapped his fingers.
"The old skinflint has no love for me and vice versa," he said. "I have sailed the Aurelian for him eight years and made a mint of money for him. Yet he would not yield me a bit of sympathy or help were I in trouble or distress. You cannot blame me!"
"Under such circumstances, no," replied Clifford. "And Hartley, it shall be so. You stand by me and I will by you."
"It is agreed."
They gripped hands.
"You have faith in our enterprise?"
"I have."
At this moment the first mate called down from the ship's bridge:
"There is a small tug over yonder making signals to us, skipper!"
Hartley started forward.
"A tug!" he cried. "Answer them at once! Can it be possible that it is Parker coming to meet us?"
"By Jove, I hope that is true!" cried Clifford heartily.
"If so," said the captain, "he has very radically departed from all previous custom."
The tug which had signaled the Aurelian now drew momentarily nearer.
Soon she was within hailing distance, and among her company the angular form of the owner of the Aurelian was seen.
The ship lay to and the tug ran alongside. The owner came up the gangway somewhat hastily.
"Ah, Hartley!" he said, in a brusque sort of way, "you have brought my ship home safely once more!"
"I think I may claim that, Mr. Parker," replied the captain.
"Has the voyage been successful?"
"The best yet made!"
"Ah! that is good," declared Parker, rubbing his dry little hands while his eyes glittered like beads. "You are very shrewd, Hartley, and I will admit, faithful. I have gone to some expense to come out here and meet you. That I will charge to the deficit account. I am anxious to know the meaning of your cablegram!"
"You shall know it at once!" replied the captain. "Come into the cabin. But first, allow me, Mr. Parker, my friend, Cecil Clifford."
Parker bowed in a perfunctory way, and Clifford said
4"Very much pleased!"
Then a few moments later they were seated in the cabin at a big table spread with charts.
Hartley opened the conversation.
"I will first tell you a bit of a story, Mr. Parker," he said; "it will help to explain matters."
"Proceed!" said Parker, stiffly.
"As I must first inform you," continued the captain, "Mr. Clifford here is an antiquarian and traveler. He was some few weeks ago engaged in exploring the interior of Honduras. In the mountains he found the ruined city of an ancient race. In exploring the ruins he found a secret chamber which was completely walled up, save for one small opening large enough to put a hand through.
"In this secret chamber there was a skeleton enclosed in fragments of armor, such as was worn by the soldiers of Spain in the sixteenth century.
"Here was a mystery, and he at once set himself at work to solve it. His first assumption was that it was the remains of one of the early Spanish invaders, who had been made a prisoner by the natives and shut up here to starve to death.
"And upon the walls of the death cell he found the following scratched in barely legible characters into the stone:
"I, Don Cristobal Mendoza, am thrown into this dungeon to starve by the heathen, curses upon them! Curses upon the fortune which placed me in their power.
"Here I am doomed to die, while my ship, the Donna Veneta, lies fathoms deep in the ocean, off this cursed coast, with all my great fortune aboard.
"Woe is the day I left sunny Spain with my princely holdings, to set up a kingdom in this land of deception and disappointment. Buried at the bottom of the sea is my noble ship and millions of pesos, while I am to die in this fearful hole. Jesus pity! Save my soul!"
"Then followed a diagram which was rudely drawn to show the spot where the Donna Veneta went down. The whole coast map of Honduras was shown, and so comprehensive was it that a skipper familiar with the waters should be able to sail directly to it.
"No latitude or longitude was given, only approximate distances, but this was deemed enough."
The diagram was briefly discussed. All the while Parker had listened with a cat-like gleam in his eyes.
"Well, Mr. Parker," said Hartley, finally, "what do you think of it? Is not that treasure worth recovering?"
"Recovering!" exclaimed the miser, squeakily; "how can 5it be recovered? How can you recover anything from such a depth in the sea as that?"
"Pshaw! There are hundreds of divers who will go down to the wreck."
"If they can find it."
"You are incredulous!"
"What do you want of me? Is this your reason for calling me out here at such trouble and expense?" cried the miser, angrily. "What a bit of moonshine! You are a fool, Hartley. I gave you credit for more sense. What folly to think that you could recover such a treasure. Why, it is absurd-very absurd, sir!"
For a moment Hartley's face was black. Hot words were on his tongue, but he only said, in a steely way:
"Then you have no faith in this project?"
"None whatever!"
"You will not lend the Aurelian to this scheme on promise of an equal division?"
"Never!"
The miser spoke decidedly; Hartley arose quickly to his feet. He was very resolute and very angry.
"Then, Mr. Parker," he said, "you may look for a new captain. I am out of your employ this moment."
Parker gave a violent start.
"What!" he cried, "have I not always paid you well?"
"Never without reluctance."
"Then you mean to leave me?"
"I do."
"What will you do? You have no ship nor enough of money to carry out your hare-brained enterprise."
"But my friend, Mr. Clifford, has," replied Hartley, coolly.
The miser turned and regarded Clifford almost insolently.
"Yes," said the traveler, with assumed nonchalance. "You have chosen to throw away your golden opportunity, Mr. Parker. We are not sorry, however, to exclude you from our enterprise. It is true that I have money enough to build, buy or charter any kind of a vessel we may desire to accomplish our purpose."
The miser looked keenly at Clifford and then stammered:
"But-I-I will reconsider--"
"No, you won't," said Clifford emphatically. "We are alone in this enterprise, sir. You are excluded!"
The miser said no more. But he chuckled much under his breath. The Aurelian a few hours later was at her wharf.
Then Captain Hartley and the distinguished traveler took their leave of the vessel. The captain took the portfolio in which he had kept the copy of Don Cristobal's story, among other effects.
6Both proceeded at once to a hotel. Neither were disconcerted by the decision of Parker.
"The Aurelian is a good vessel," said Hartley, "but there are others, Clifford. I am not sorry to leave the old curmudgeon out of it."
"Nor I," agreed Clifford; "but now, my dear friend, let us at once get down to business."
“Stranger than the tales of the Arabian Nights—indeed, almost Munchausen-like in its seemingly improbable character is the tale I am about to give you in truth,” said Captain Nicodemus Beere as he hitched up his trowsers and shifted his quid.
Opposite it and upon the eastern extremity of mystic Yucatan is Cape Catoche. Between these two points of land lies that body of water which connects the Gulf of Mexico with the Caribbean Sea and known as the Yucatan Channel.
One year into marriage, Yvonne realized she was nothing more than a substitute for someone else's memory. When his true love reappeared, Julian tossed a divorce contract her way. "She's back. We're finished," he said flatly. The secret of her pregnancy stayed hidden. Yvonne fought the urge to cry, signed her freedom, and disappeared. Five years on, cameras flashed as Yvonne, radiant in red, strode across a film festival stage with her bright-eyed son. Julian's hands clenched as he watched. "Sir, the boy's four and a half," whispered his shaken assistant. Then, he rushed to the film set only to witness an A-list actor gently wrapping his arm around Yvonne's waist. "I've booked your favorite restaurant for tonight's celebration." The little boy blinked his innocent eyes at Julian, asking, "Who are you? One of my mom's crazy admirers?" He cornered her in the dressing room, his voice hoarse as he said, "Let's remarry." Her lips curled slightly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "The curtain's down; it's time to end this scene." But this time, he wasn't letting go.
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
Taraji Inez Monroe was going through the toughest time of her life. Her mother had been diagnosed with a serious heart condition and needed emergency surgery to get a stent put in. The only problem was that the surgery cost a fortune, and Tara was desperate to find a way to save her mother's life. She had been blessed with good looks and a banging body, and she knew that there was only one thing she could sell to raise the money her mother needed. And what better place than a high-end club to kickstart her plan where she knew the highest bidders would be? As she made her way through the swarming mass of people, her gaze fell upon a man who emanated an aura of mystery. He was ruggedly handsome, with sharp features and a firm jawline. His eyes were deep-set and piercing. Despite his captivating appearance, there was an air of arrogance about him that made her hesitate and before she knew it, she was in his hotel room bent over. Antonio Nikos Valioso, the bipolar heir claimed her virtue in the most brutal way possible and then announced that he would marry her as tradition demanded. ...
At their wedding night, Kayla caught her brand-new husband cheating. Reeling and half-drunk, she staggered into the wrong suite and collapsed into a stranger's arms. Sunrise brought a pounding head-and the discovery she was pregnant. The father? A supremely powerful tycoon who happened to be her husband's ruthless uncle. Panicked, she tried to run, but he barred the door with a faint, dangerous smile. When the cheating ex begged, Kayla lifted her chin and declared, "Want a second chance at us? Ask your uncle." The tycoon pulled her close. "She's my wife now." The ex gasped, "What!?"
Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.
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