answered Allison, gravely.

Less than a week later, Uriah Levy succeeded in convincing several wealthy friends of the sanity of his plan. They advanced the necessary funds and with a carefully picked crew he started out on a vessel of his own with Allison as first mate in pursuit of the sailors who had cast him afloat near the Carolina sh.o.r.es.

Of all the tales Ned Allison loved to tell his grandchildren when he had grown to be an old man, they clamored most for the story of the sea fight in which Uriah Levy conquered the pirate crew of the "George Washington." It was a short battle, but a terrible one, which he fought a year after the mutiny; and before the mutineers finally lowered their black flag in token of surrender, a third of the crew lay dead or wounded upon the slippery decks. Old Martin, his pipe still between his teeth, lay among the dead, but Sam Jones, his right arm hanging limp and useless at his side, was among the survivors who were put into irons when their vessel was taken in tow and Levy turned his face homeward. Like the other mutineers Jones never doubted what his fate would be, for those days were hard days and the men who lived by the sword knew only too well that at any moment death by the sword might be their portion. Hourly they waited for Levy to pa.s.s judgment upon them, to hang them from the yard arm of the ship which they had sailed under the flag of piracy. While Levy's own crew grew impatient until the first mate, Allison, ventured to speak to him of the matter as they sat in Levy's cabin the night after the battle.

"I can't help wondering, sir," Allison began, doubtfully, "why you have said nothing so far concerning the fate of our prisoners, since it is practically in your hands."

Levy shook his head as he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Perhaps he was thinking of the night when Jones had threatened him with death and laughed at his helplessness. "According to the 'unwritten law' which is made to cover so many lawless acts, I have the power to deal with them as I think fit," he answered. "And I must confess I was sorely tempted to take the law into my own hands when I knew the mutineers were in my power. But," smiling a little, "it is much better to leave it to the law courts when we reach port."

"And if they should be acquitted?" Allison's eyes snapped with excitement. "Sir, if I were in your place----"

"If you were in my place, you might not be censured for yielding to your desire for revenge," returned Levy, very quietly. "But I--" his voice took on a tinge of bitterness, "I am a Jew and these wretches, no matter how criminal, would be pitied as the victim of a Jew's vengeance. Even in America, my dear Allison, and in spite of the liberal influence of men like Thomas Jefferson, it is not always easy to be a Jew."

The civil authorities, however, were entirely on Levy's side at the trial and the mutineers were duly tried and condemned to death. The young sailor was about to put out to sea again, for he longed for further adventure, when the outbreak of the war of 1812 set him a-dreaming once more of serving his country upon the sea. In spite of his youth, he was commissioned sailing master in the United States Navy, serving on the ship, "Alert," and later on the brig, "Argus,"

which ran the blockade to France, Mr. Crawford, the American minister to that country, being aboard. The "Argus" captured several English vessels, one of which was placed at Levy's command; but his triumph was short-lived; recaptured by the English, Levy and his crew were kept prisoners of war in England for over a year.

Regaining his freedom, Levy returned to America to be promoted to the rank of lieutenant. It was then that he realized how just had been his complaint to Allison, for on every hand those who were envious of his good fortune proved even more malicious because of his loyalty to his faith. Levy suffered, too, from the hatred of those naval officers who looked upon him as an intruder into their ranks. For, with the exception of a year's attendance at the Naval School in Philadelphia, he had had no naval training and had worked his way up from the ranks.

Perhaps his long fight against the practise of flogging unruly sailors helped to add to the number of his enemies, for those in authority were outraged that this Jewish upstart should criticise a custom so deeply rooted in the traditions of the navy. Another man of quieter temper might have tried to combat the prejudice and hatred which met him at every turn; but Levy's nature was not a patient one. When raised to the rank of captain, he felt that he could not allow the slanders of one of his enemies to go unanswered; he challenged the Jew-hater to a duel and caused his opponent to pay for his insults with his life.

Although the duel was still recognized as an honorable means of settling a controversy between gentlemen, Levy was made to pay bitterly for his vindication. His enemies were too strong for him. He fought them bravely and with his old proud spirit, but when the trial was over, Allison still serving in the navy, read in one of the newspapers that his old master had been court-martialed and dropped from the roll of the United States Navy as captain.

"I knew they'd get him," thought the honest seaman. "Ah, he was too good for them and now they put him to shame. I couldn't blame him if he turned against his country when he's treated so after all his services. And I wonder what'll happen to him if he doesn't follow the sea."

Allison was right in suspecting that his old playmate would turn in his trouble to the sea as a child when hurt or tired runs to its mother for comfort. Glad of an offer to take charge of an important business commission in Brazil, Levy left the United States, hoping that the long sea voyage might do a little toward easing the pain in his heart. But he found that he had been mistaken, although no one ever knew how deeply he suffered from the moment he left the land he had sought to serve from his boyhood. Disgraced by his country, tired and broken in spirit, he spent endless hours in brooding over his misfortune. No longer the commander of his men, not even a common seaman, he spent the long days on board leaning upon the rail, looking with somber eyes upon the waves. His proud heart was bitter against those who had goaded him on to his ruin; he felt that there was no justice for the Jew in the whole world, not even in America. Although he had already set the wheels in motion for a new trial, he was confident that his enemies would again prove too powerful for him. It was a hopeless and a heartsick man who landed at last and began his new duties at the Brazilian Capital.

Several days after his arrival, Uriah P. Levy stood by the window of his room reading a letter, his brows knitted in thought. The note was written on the royal stationery and requested him to appear the next morning for an audience with Emperor Dom Pedro. Levy could think of but one reason for such a strange command. Perhaps the slanders of his enemies had preceded him even to this far-off place; perhaps he was already under suspicion and the audience with the emperor might lead to imprisonment or ejection from the country. The thought of new difficulties to encounter wakened his fighting spirit; he was strangely elated and the dreadful langor which had seized him during his journey disappeared.

"I am ready for another good fight," he told himself grimly as he prepared for bed. That night for the first time since his court-martial he slept the long hours through, and he rested as peacefully as a little child.

Dressing himself with his usual care and holding his head as proudly as though he still wore his country's uniform, Levy appeared at the palace and was immediately ushered into the emperor's presence. His quick eyes, long trained to notice the smallest detail, quickly took in every feature of the richly appointed room, noting even the fantastic carving of the chair on which the emperor sat, and one of the rings he wore, a flat green emerald with a mystic letter carved upon it making the jewel, so he judged, a sort of talisman. He smiled in spite of himself as he remembered his own humble charm, the lucky stone. Perhaps the pebble's usefulness was over; he could hardly call his career especially fortunate just now.

Emperor Dom Pedro was a man of a few words. He murmured a few polite phrases of greeting, asked Levy of his voyage and whether he had completed the mission which had brought him to Brazil. "For if you have," he ended, "I may have matters of interest to discuss with you."

"I am not quite finished with the business which brought me here,"

answered Levy, "but naturally I am honored by your majesty's request to appear before you and not a little eager to learn what matters you may care to discuss with me."

The emperor twirled the ring with its strange green stone about his finger. "I have heard much of you," he returned, briefly, "and I need men of your daring and enterprise in my service. Will you take an important commission under the Brazilian government?"

For a moment Levy wavered. Already an exile in spirit, he felt he did not have the courage to return to his native country. Here was an opportunity for an honorable career which would bring him position, wealth, all the excitement his daring heart desired. Then, curiously enough, as he gazed at the emperor's ring, there flashed across his mind the picture of a brown-faced boy upon the sands, a boy turning a lucky stone in his fingers as he dreamed of a glorious career in the country of his birth. He turned to the emperor and spoke quietly, but with his characteristic decision.

"Your majesty," said Uriah Levy, "I thank you. But the humblest position in my country's service is more to be preferred than royal favor." And bowing before Dom Pedro, he left the court.

Nor was Levy's trust in the justice of his country unfounded. Just as he had persisted in bringing his mutinous crew to punishment, now he showed the same determination in insisting that a court of inquiry be established to question the justice of his court-martial. He prepared his own defense--merely a statement of his record while in the service of his country--a record that won his complete and honorable acquittal. Not only was he restored to his old rank in the United States Navy, but shortly afterwards he rose to the advanced rank of commodore.

When the Civil War broke out he was holding the position of flag officer, the highest rank in our navy at that time. The years had been kind to the little cabin boy and his private inheritance had grown into a considerable fortune. He had already purchased Monticello, the home of his old idol, Thomas Jefferson, intending to preserve it as a national shrine, and had presented a statue of the author of our Declaration of Independence to the nation's Hall of Fame. Now he felt that there was but one cause to which he cared to devote his wealth; he sought an interview with President Lincoln and placed his entire private fortune at the nation's disposal.

A few days later, his boyhood friend, Ned Allison, now crippled with rheumatism but with a laugh as hearty and boyish as of old, visited his former master. He found Uriah Levy grown frail and listless, the fires of his youth beginning to burn low as he neared his seventieth year. To be sure the commodore tried to rouse himself, asking after Ned's children, and even laughing feebly at the latter's account of his youngest grandson, "named Uriah Levy Allison, after you, sir," who now toddled along the beach where the two boys had searched among the pebbles so long ago.

"We didn't know we'd live to see two wars, did we, sir," mused Allison, "when we were just lads playing before my father's shack.

Well, even if we're past our prime now, they can't say we didn't do our part back in 1812," and he chuckled a little in his pride.

But Levy's eyes were sad. "We have lived a little too long, Allison,"

he said, gravely but without bitterness. "When this war broke out I tried to help once more. But my offer of my entire fortune--and it was little enough to offer my country--has been refused, although I am allowed to subscribe to the war loan. Yet money means so little in a time like this. Whenever I hear the call for volunteers, I am like the old war horse that is turned out to gra.s.s. I am an old man now, nearly seventy, and must sit at home by the fire. But it hurts a little, Allison; it hurts a little."

For a while there was silence between them. When Allison rose to go, Levy followed him to the door, stopping a moment at the drawer of his desk to wrap a small package which he thrust into his old friend's hand.

"'Tis for the boy, my name-sake," he explained. "The money will buy him some toy--maybe a small vessel to sail when the tide is low--and the other--," he laughed a little confusedly. "I found the trifle among some old keepsakes and papers the other day when I put my affairs in order. Give it to the boy and tell him of the day we found it. And come again soon, Allison, and talk over old times."

Out in the street, Ned Allison removed the wrappings from the little package. It contained a gold piece and a lucky stone with a bit of soiled string still fastened through one of the holes.

THE PRINCESS OF PHILADELPHIA

_The Story of Rebecca Gratz and Washington Irving._

The spring rain fell on the roof with a gentle murmur, tinkling merrily as though it were pleased to hear the happy laughter of the children playing in the garret of Michael Gratz's house in Philadelphia. Six children romped there that Sat.u.r.day afternoon in early springtime, away back in the year 1712, Rebecca Gratz, her younger brothers and sister and the one guest she had invited to her eleventh birthday party, Matilda Hoffman, a girl about her own age, whose fair long braids formed a striking contrast to Rebecca's dusky curls.

Just now the merriment was at its height for Rebecca, aided by Matilda, was setting the table, while nine-year-old Rachel tried to amuse baby Benjamin who was making violent efforts to nibble at the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of the birthday cake. Joseph and Jacob, fine st.u.r.dy fellows of seven and six, had found a pair of fencing foils in one of the old trunks in the corner and were engaged in a lively duel, displaying such recklessness that had their mother seen them she would have confiscated the weapons without delay. Perhaps Rebecca would have stopped this dangerous play had she not been too busy with the banquet-table--really a board placed upon two barrels and covered with a gay red scarf Rachel had found with the fencing foils.

"It does look nice," she admitted, viewing her efforts with her head on one side as Matilda poured out the last gla.s.s of gooseberry wine and set it in its place. "Only," with a little sigh, "I do wish my birthday hadn't come today so we could have had candles instead of those wax roses on the cake."

"Why couldn't you?" Matilda asked curiously.

"It isn't right for people to light birthday candles on _Shabbas_,"

explained Rachel. "Jewish people, I mean," she qualified as she tied a napkin around Benjamin's fat neck and deposited him in a seat at the table furtherest from the birthday cake. "But it's different for you 'cause you're not Jewish."

"It's queer people are all different and go to different churches,"

puzzled Matilda. "My mamma says----"

But no one ever heard her mother's opinion on the subject, for Joseph and Jacob on seeing Rebecca take her place at the head of the table raced to their seats with howls like hungry Indians at dinner time.

For a few minutes the children's noisy tongues were hushed as the little hostess pa.s.sed out sandwiches and jelly tarts. But when all the plates were empty to the last crumb and only the birthday cake remained in solitary splendor, just beyond the reach of Benjamin's greedy fingers, Joseph remarked with a satisfied sigh:

"This was just like one of those king's dinners in the fairy books.

Like the banquet Esther gave the king at Purim."

"I wish it was Purim again," observed Jacob, who, seeing that the pitcher was empty, began to wish that he had drunk his second gla.s.s of gooseberry wine a little more slowly. "Don't you remember last Purim, Becky, how you wore mother's old black silk and played you were Queen Esther? But Joe and Hyman took all the good parts and wouldn't let me be a king or anything."

"We don't have to wait till Purim to dress up and play king and queen," Rebecca told him, her brows knit in her effort to divide the pink and white cake into six slices of equal thickness. "As soon as we've finished our cake, we'll look through those old trunks over there. There're ever so many dresses and things from Austria and an Indian blanket and beads and such things and I know mother wouldn't care if we played with them as long as we put 'em all back again."

Joseph sprang up, his piece of frosted cake in his hand. "I want the Indian stuff," he cried.

"And I'll shoot you with my gun," challenged Jacob, pushing Rachel away from the trunk. "You're so slow, Rachel, we'll never get anything out."

The other children followed, all but little Benjamin. Benjamin was still too young to be interested in the game of "dressing up." So he toddled about the deserted table, picking stray crumbs from the plates and turning over the empty gla.s.ses in the hope of finding a few drops of gooseberry wine.

Strange, isn't it, that no matter how long it takes to get ready for breakfast, the slowest boy or girl can b.u.t.ton himself into a make-believe outfit in the twinkling of an eye. In an incredibly short time, the five youngsters were dressed, each to satisfy his own peculiar taste: Joseph as an Indian in blanket and beads, with a crimson band about his head; Jacob, carrying a sword, wore a moth-eaten smoking jacket, a bright sash and crimson Turkish turban; Rachel and Matilda were two dainty ladies in full skirts of blue and pink, with deep bonnets; while Rebecca was rather splendid in a yellow silk wrapper, a long veil fastened about her head with a string of pearl beads she had found in the treasure trunk. Laughing merrily, they all raced to the long mirror which stood at the other end of the garret; though cracked and discolored they were able to distinguish the gaily clad figures within its mottled depths, more like the quaint images of an old tapestry than happy, romping children at play. Then they scattered to their own games, the boys to stage an exciting battle between a red skin and a gallant soldier, the little girls to comfort Benjamin, who, having cleared the table, began to howl dismally that he wanted to get "dwessed, too!"