The weekly Anglo-African., 1860-04-07

skill were of any avail in averting her i'm
pending fate. In few moments tre-
mendous crash, and a heart-rending but
fruitless cry for belE, announced the horrid
catastrophe, and the last flashing signal
gun revealed for moment scene too nor
rible to be described. Thestranded vessel,
hurled repeatedly against the jaggard rock
of the bay, soon parted; the waves dashed
over the shattered hull with relentless fury,
bearing to the shore the scattered cargo,
broken pieces of the wreck, and the latter
ed rigging, whilst the mingled shrieks of
the drowning, blended with the roar of the
conflicting clemens, rose upon the ear like
the despairing cries of an army of dying
Titans. There was one, however, in whose
eyes such scene was joyous-in whose
ears such sounds were melody-and that
being was Rosenthall. He waited impa-
tiently until the storm had somewhat aba
ted, and when silence began to indicate
that the work of death was we'll nigh over,
he descended the well-Enown cliff to dart
upon his prey Unmoved by the horrible
spectacle, (for the moon had broken from
the clouds by which she had before been
concealed he stood awhile gazing on the
scene of desolation around him, as if
at a loss where first to begin his work of
rapine But to his surprise and momen-
tary dismay, there was yet one living soul
on board, who, should he survive, would
interpose between him and his hard earned
booty, and who was even now supplicating
his assistance.
To dispatch this unhappy creature in
his exhausted and helpless condition was
resolution no sooner formed than execu-
ted. While he was appearing to aid his
escape from the jaws of death, one stroke
Of his hanger laid him livid and mutila-
ted corse upon the sands before him. Ro-
senthall then riAed the pockets of his vic
tim, taking a ring from his finger, and,
laden with the most portable articles of
plumber, retraced his footsteps to his hut.
"What luckp exclaimed his fend-like
helpmate, as he crossed the threshold of
the door.
"Never BETTER" rejoined Rosenthall,
pointing to his booty. He then described
the success of his hellish stratagem, with
out even concealing the particulars of the
murder, after which he displayed some
pieces of foreign gold coin, and the ring
he had taken from the stranger.
"Give me the light, Mag" said the hoary
villain. The bag obeyed, but no sooner
had he examined the ring than he recog-
nized it from certain marks upon it.
His countenance changed, and with
groan of agony he quickly handed it to his
wife. She knew too we'll f-om whose
han it had been taken, and after glancing
at it for moment, yelled out with super
natural energy, "Oh, my son, my poor sonp
and fell senseless at the feet of her hus-
band
Rosenthall endeavored to master his feel
ings until the fact could be ascertained.
He arose with the dawn and fastened to
the spot where he had left the murdered
corse.
1t was indeed his son.
The stroke of retribution had been COM
plete. Overwhelmed with despair, and
stung by remorse, to which his heart had
ever before been imperious, he determined
on self-destruction. A few days after
wards his mangled body was found among
the rocks, and inferred on the spot where
he had perpetratcd his last deed of blood.
The chief inciden,t of this terrible story are
still narrated in the neighborhood which
was the scene Of its hero'S manifold atroci-
ties.
His wretched wife persisted few weeks
afterwards by the fall of her hut, occasion
ed by one of those dreadful storms which
she and her savage helpmate had SO fire.
quently invoked.