The Newtown bee., 1879-07-09
fWEED'S STRANGE LIFE ON A SCHOONER.
A STORY OF HIS ESCAPE.

A STORY OF HIS ESCAPE.
 The escape of William M. Tweed from Ludlow street jail, the mystery of his long and successful concealment from the sleuth hounds of justice who were put upon his search, his vicissitudinous wanderings and his final recapture and restoration to his old prison, which he never left again until he took the last, long journey which puts all human be- ings out of the reach of bolts and bars, is a romance rarely paralleled, never sur passed. A portion of it has been told with average correctness. sNThere has been missing chapter, though, whose absence left the tale unfinished and the plot incomplete. The Standby Ne,os now presents the last link for the first time to the public.
 Wm. M. Tweed escaped from the cus- tody of the sheriff of the county of New York on the evening of December 5, 1875. He was at the time in charge of two deputies of Sheriff Conner. Accord ing to their statements, as embodied in the published reports, his evasion of their watchfulness occurred in his own house, where he was visiting his wife.
 It was thought impossible that so well known man could effectually conceal himself from the search which followed with rigor never equaled in the crim- inal annals of the country. But days grew into weeks and weeks melted into months, and the whereabouts of the fugi- tive remained still unknown. Wm. M. Tweed had vanished as completely from official eyes as if the earth had devoured him. No definite information of his hid ing place was obtained until, after many months the excitement of his escape was revived by the news of his capture at Vigo, Spain, on board of a merchant ahin which hriv ninn hsY,, Cuba. s gElE s 4
 What followed is well known. His previous adventures in the Ever Faith ful Isle are also part of history But there remains blank between his escape and his landing on Cuban soil. That blank the Standby NeUs now fills from information afforded by the man in whose care the deihroned and flying magnate left this country and the perils which menaced him here behind him.
 The schooner Frank Atwood was. a couple of years ago, the best known ves- sel engaged in the West India fruit trade from the port of New York, She had been built by Donald Mckay, the famous Boston builder of clipper ships, for his son. The old shipwright had expended all his knowledge and skill on her to ren- der her marvel ofsymmetry and speed. He had succeeded. The Frank Atwood, for model and sailing qualities, was more n yacht that a commonplace trader. Her voyages were called the best on record.
 Young Mckay, after a voyage or two, fell into extravaganza and sold his schooner. She became the property of Mike Murray, the gambler of Ann street and Clinton place, and the partner of Senator Mike Norton.
 Murray placed in command of the Frank Atwood 8 Newburyport, Mass, skipper, named Bryant, under whom the vessel was sailed regularly in the fruit trade with the West Indies. Captain Bryant was poor man, devoted to the interests of his employer, who, on his part, was good paymaster and an easy chief. What follows is Captain Bryant's story, as told to q Sunday Net0s re- porter: sFsx ~- -
 'In the middle of April, 1876, the Frank Atwood lay at the foot of Dover street, loaded with a general cargo and cleared for Port Maria, Jamaica. A messenger from MT. Murray brought me note asking me to see him at once. I went with the messenger to II Ann street, where I found him in the private room.
 "'Captain, he said, I want to send two passengers out to Cuba with you They will be on board tonight. You will want some fancy stores to vary your ordinary sea fare. Here are $50. Lay in your stock at once. You are ready for sea nowp
 "' Yes, sir.'
 "'One of the passengers will assume charge. of the schooner. You will do whatever he desires, as if he was myself By-the-by, I will send down to the schooner this afternoon. Give my mes- senger some token or other that the mes- sengers can bring to you as proof that they are the proper parties; and you needn't put yourself out to tell any one about this either
 " A messenger came that afternoon. I didn'tk know what to give him for token My wife, who was in the cabin sewing, took a sail-needle, the eye of which was broken off and which she had been using to make crochet-holes with, out of her work basket, and said laughingly: Give him this; it is not good for much else' I put the needle in blank envelope and sent it.
 Ut was getting toward dusk that even- ing, and I was all ready for sailing. Some friends of mine were talking to me on the quaTter-deck when man came down the wharf. He was an ordinary looking, medium-sized man, dressed ina common dark suit. He strollcd along as if he had nothing particular to do and plenty of time to do it in. He passed down the wharf toward the schooner's bow. He stopped at the fore-rigging, stepped on to the bulwark, and jumped down on the deck.
 ed round forward, chatting with the cook, who was getting supper ready, till my friends went ashore. Then, just as