The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lily and the Cross, by James De Mille

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: The Lily and the Cross A Tale of Acadia

Author: James De Mille

Release Date: January 27, 2010 [EBook #31096]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LILY AND THE CROSS ***

Produced by Marlo Dianne

[Illustration: A Meeting In Mid Ocean.]

The

LILY AND THE CROSS.

A Tale of Acadia.

By

PROF. JAMES DE MILLE,

Author Of "the Dodge Club," "Cord And Creese," "the B. O. W. C.
Stories," "the Young Dodge Club," Etc

ILLUSTRATED.

BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, By LEE AND
SHEPARD, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. A Voice Out Of The Deep

CHAPTER II. A Meeting In Mid Ocean

CHAPTER III. New Friends

CHAPTER IV. Mimi And Margot

CHAPTER V. A Strange Revelation

CHAPTER VI. A French Frigate

CHAPTER VII. Caught In A Trap

CHAPTER VIII. Under Arrest

CHAPTER IX. Grand Pre

CHAPTER X. Alone In The World

CHAPTER XI. A Friend In Need

CHAPTER XII. The Parson Among The Philistines

CHAPTER XIII. A Stroke For Liberty

CHAPTER XIV. Manoeuvres Of Zac

CHAPTER XV. Flight

CHAPTER XVI. Reunion

CHAPTER XVII. Among Friends

CHAPTER XVIII. Louisbourg

CHAPTER XIX. The Captive And The Captors

CHAPTER XX. Examinations

CHAPTER XXI. A Ray Of Light

CHAPTER XXII. Escape

CHAPTER XXIII. Pursuit

CHAPTER XXIV. Zac And Margot

CHAPTER XXV. The Court Martial

CHAPTER XXVI. News From Home

THE LILY AND THE CROSS.

A TALE OF ACADIA.

CHAPTER I.

A VOICE OUT OF THE DEEP.

Once upon a time there was a schooner belonging to Boston which was registered under the somewhat singular name of the "Rev. Amos Adams." This was her formal title, used on state occasions, and was, no doubt, quite as appropriate as the more pretentious one of the "Duke of Marlborough," or the "Lord Warden." As a general thing, however, people designated her in a less formal manner, using the simpler and shorter title of the "Parson." Her owner and commander was a tall, lean, sinewy young man, whoso Sunday-go-to-meeting name was Zion Awake Cox, but who was usually referred to by an ingenious combination of the initials of these three names, and thus became Zac, and occasionally Zachariah. This was the schooner which, on a fine May morning, might have been seen "bounding over the billows" on her way to the North Pole.

About her motion on the present occasion, it must be confessed there was not much bounding, nor much billow. Nor, again, would it have been easy for any one to see her, even if he had been brought close to her; for the simple reason that the "Parson," as she went on her way, carrying Zac and his fortunes, had become involved in a fog bank, in the midst of which she now lay, with little or no wind to help her out of it.

Zac was not alone on board, nor had the present voyage been undertaken on his own account, or of his own motion. There were two passengers, one of whom had engaged the schooner for his own purposes. This one was a young fellow who called himself Claude Motier, of Randolph. His name, as well as his face, had a foreign character; yet he spoke English with the accent of an Englishman, and had been brought up in Massachusetts, near Boston, where he and Zac had seen very much of one another, on sea and on shore. The other passenger was a Roman Catholic priest, whose look and accent proclaimed him to be a Frenchman. He seemed about fifty years of age, and his bronzed faced, grizzled hair, and deeply-wrinkled brow, all showed the man of action rather than the recluse. Between these two passengers there was the widest possible difference. The one was almost a boy, the other a world-worn old man; the one full of life and vivacity, the other sombre and abstracted; yet between the two there was, however, a mysterious resemblance, which possibly may have been something more than that air of France, which they both had.

Whatever it may have been, they had been strangers to one another until the past few days, for Claude Motier had not seen the priest until after he had chartered the schooner for a voyage to Louisbourg. The priest had then come, asking for a passage to that port. He gave his name as the Abbé Michel, and addressed Claude in such bad English that the young man answered in French of the best sort, whereat the good priest seemed much delighted, and the two afterwards conversed with each other altogether in that language.

Besides these three, there were the ship's company dispersed about the vessel. This company were not very extensive, not numbering over three, in addition to Zac. These three all differed in age, in race, and in character. The aged colored man, who was at that moment washing out some tins at the bows, came aboard as cook, with the understanding that he was to be man of all work. He was a slave of Zac's, but, like many domestic slaves in those days, he seemed to regard himself as part of his master's family,—in fact, a sort of respected relative. He rejoiced in the name of Jericho, which was often shortened to Jerry, though the aged African considered the shorter name as a species of familiarity which was only to be tolerated on the part of his master. The second of the ship's company was a short, athletic, rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, round-faced lad, who was always singing and dancing except when he was whistling. His name was Terry, and his country Ireland. In addition to Jerry and Terry, there was a third. He was a short, dull, and somewhat doleful looking boy of about twelve, who had a crushed expression, and seemed to take gloomy views of life. The only name by which he was known to himself and others was Biler; but whether that was a Christian name, or a surname, or a nickname, cannot be said. Biler's chief trouble in life was an inordinate and insatiable appetite. Nothing came amiss, and nothing was ever refused. Zac had picked the boy up three years before, and since that time he had never known him to be satisfied. At the present moment, Terry was standing at the tiller, while Biler was at the masthead, to which he had climbed to get rid of the disappointments of the world below, in a more elevated sphere, and from his lofty perch he was gazing with a hungry eye forth into space, and from time to time pulling bits of dried codfish from his pocket, and thrusting them into his mouth.

"Hy da!" suddenly shouted the aged Jericho, looking up.