GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.

KIDNAPPING POOR COOLIES.

BY CAPTAIN HOWARD PATTERSON.

The rain was sweeping a musical tattoo against the windows of the room in which Ralph Pell was devouring an ancient volume of sea-yarns, discovered by him that morning among other old books in the attic chest, and which collection represented the little ship's library that had been carried by Grandfather Sterling's vessel on many long and venturesome voyages to all quarters of the globe. In a sleepy-hollow chair near the window that overlooked a sweep of sodden meadow-land sat the old sailor, his eyes closed, and his head nodding over a long-stemmed pipe in which the fire had gone out some time before, but whose mouth-piece he held between his lips with something like the tenacity of a bull-dog's grip.

As Ralph ran his eyes along the line of type that marked the ending of the last story, he gave expression to a sigh in which enjoyment and regret were equally divided, and turned the leaves of the book through his fingers idly, as though reluctant to realize that he had parted company with its sea heroes, buccaneers, beautiful captive maidens, and other characters who had played their several parts against backgrounds of tempest, fire, and piracy.

"Grandpop!" he called, gently, and the old man slept on. "Oh, grandpop!" he said, in a louder voice; but the grizzled seaman responded only by a little deeper snore and a tighter hold upon the stem of his pipe. A mischievous look stole into Ralph's eyes. Suddenly he called out strong, "There goes flukes!"

"Where away?" shouted Grandfather Sterling, dropping his pipe and jumping excitedly to his feet, imagining that he was on board of a whaling-ship, and that the lookout had reported a school of whales in sight.

At this Ralph threw himself back in his chair, laughing heartily, and did not observe the old sailor's look of bewilderment change to that of comprehension and fun-making. Grandfather quietly laid hold of the fire-bellows hanging on the chimney front, stole across the room to Ralph's chair, and just as its occupant was indulging in a renewed burst of mirth the nozzle of the bellows found its way into his generously open mouth, and a strong and unexpected rush of air sent his head bumping against the back cushion.

"There she blows! There she blows!" yelled Grandfather Sterling, as he worked the bellows handles energetically.

After the merriment had ended, and the Captain's pipe had been recovered and lit, Ralph said:

"Grandpop, there's a story in that old book of yours about the way that the poor coolies were deceived in the East Indies and taken to other countries to work as slaves. Do you know any stories about them?"

The old sailor nodded an affirmative. Ralph was all excitement in a moment.

"Oh, tell the story, grandpop, please! When did it happen, and what is it about?"

Captain Sterling allowed a cloud of smoke to float slowly upward in front of him in order to screen the look of mischief in his gray eyes, then answered,

"It happened a good many years ago, Ralph, and it is about a ship that I was an officer on when she was in the coolie trade."

Ralph jumped to his feet in amazement.

"Grandfather," he said, with a break in his voice, "you don't mean that you were once little better than a negro-slaver? It can't be true. You're only fooling; now tell the truth, grandpop."

The ashes in the bowl of his pipe seemed to require all of the Captain's attention as he replied, quite meekly,

"Yes, Ralph, it's kinder tough to admit it, but the truth is I was once a member of the crew of the most noted 'coolie packet' in the business."

Seeing the grieved, reproachful look on Ralph's face, the Captain added:

"Of course it may make you think a little better of your grandfather when I tell you that I would not have joined such a vessel willingly, and that I did not know her character until I was on board."

Ralph hurried to his grandfather's side, passed his arm affectionately around the old man's neck, and said, in a relieved way:

"I'm so glad you said that, grandpop, because I wouldn't want to know that my grandfather had ever been a coolie-stealer. And now, after scaring a fellow so badly, the least you can do to make things square is to tell the story in your best style, which you would call 'ship-shape and Bristol fashion.'"

"All right, my boy, I'll do penance in that way; and now to begin:

"I had gone out to China as second mate of the ship White Cloud. She was an old vessel, and in a typhoon that we made acquaintance with had been so badly strained and damaged that we just managed to reach port by keeping all hands at the pumps day and night for more than a week. A board of survey condemned the ship, pronouncing her unfit for further service, so all hands were paid off, and we then cast about for other berths. I was offered several chances to go before the mast, but having been an officer, I disliked to again enter the forecastle. I had considerable money, so held back, waiting for something better to turn up. At last I was told by one of the shipping-masters that a big English vessel had dropped anchor in the harbor to send her second mate to the hospital, as he was suffering with the fever peculiar to that coast, and that I could get the vacant office by applying to the British Consul. I at once made my way to the consulate, saw the Captain of the Irving Castle, hurriedly signed articles to serve as her second officer, and an hour from that time was on board the ship. As soon as I stepped over the rail I saw that she was a 'coolie-runner,' and would have backed out if possible; but it was too late, so I was forced to make the best of a bad bargain.

"I will not attempt to describe to you the horrors of that voyage—how we ran out of water owing to calms and head-winds, and how sickness ravaged among the wretched creatures packed like pigs in the hold of the ship. You may get an idea of that fearful time when I tell you that out of the eight hundred coolies that we had on board at the time of sailing, only one hundred and fifty lived to reach the port where the full measure of their deception and betrayal was realized. The poor ignorant fellows had understood that the contract signed by them was simply an agreement to work on a plantation at good wages, and that they were to be free agents to remain or to be returned to their country after a short time, when the expense of their passage had been worked out. Instead of that they discovered that such an exorbitant rate was charged for their transportation that it would require several years' labor to clear them of debt, and a like number more before they would be entitled to the return voyage. Protest availed them nothing, and they were led away as so many slaves to begin their weary servitude.

"I was heart-sick of the trade, and a little ashamed, too, of sailing under a foreign flag, so I left the Irving Castle at the first opportunity. I know that all hands were glad to see the 'Yankee' go, for I had held up the honor of my own country in a rather forcible way on several occasions when the discussion as to the wars of 1776 and 1812 had waxed warm beyond the limits of what might be called gentlemanly argument.

"And now, my boy, you know how it was that I came to serve on a 'coolie-slaver' under the British flag."