The Cotton Factory Times. — 1899-07-07 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

THE HOLD.  Now when the captain reached the hold he at first saw nothing strange. That was what he had expected. But it was a great relief to Ben Brown and Jim Marlin, I assure you. They nudged each other and breathed again. But the next instant a sadden cry, quickly suppressed, set their hearts, as Ben said, " flopping like flounders in a pan." The captain had stepped oat of sight behind sortie boxes, sad they knew that he had seen something at last. In fact, Captain Connover was at this instant gazing with dilated eyes on Jack's ghost. There it stood before him, a figure in black, with a face he marble, its eyes closed, its floating hair about its shoulders, its bead thrown back against the wall, and about it a halo such as those with which old painters were wont to encircle the beads of their madonnas, their dead saints, their holy martyrs.  He stood and gazed. It was "terrible," trnly, as the boy had said, but it was also very, very beantifuL He took anosher step forward, a stow, long step; he took another, and now he saw that it was not a spirit that he gazed upon, but a body, whence the soul had doubtless flown. It was, to his apprehension at least, a dead woman who stood pinioned to the wall by a long bar of iron, which had probably slipped from its place and formed a barricade which now supported her inanimate form. The halo about the head was the circle of light thrown by a bull's-eye upon the grey wall. More slowly still, the captain drew close. The slender waist, the little down-dropped hands, the shape of the EMT% of the cheeks, told him that this woman was young; her dress was that of a lady, well made and tidy. What did it mean? How did she come there? This was more mysterious than an apparition could have been. The woman had evidently entered the place alive. Here lay a cloak, there a small felt hat, and here was a travelling bag of some size. No one had murdered her and dragged her there. Plainly, she was a stowaway. He had seen many a stowaway before, and more than once a dead one! bat Enob a one as this, never.  " Never!" he repeated aloud. "Service, captain. Are you all right, sir ?" questioned Ben Brown's voice at this instant. Jim was not up to making inquiries. Captain Connover had quite forgotten the men. The voice brought him to himself. He retraced his steps and stood before them, pale but composed. "My RINI, Jack Brill's ghost is a dead stowaway," la -aid, "and I am sorry to say it is a woman. She is fastened in there. Come help me get her out. Softly, lads, softly. Mind you are gentle with her." They were very geutle when at last they placed her upon one of the stretchers kept in case of accident, and bore her to the deck. _ _  " Such a pretty little soul!" whispered Ben. "An angel—no less," sighed Jim. " What was she afraid of ?" said the first mate. " Why did she hide from us? There wasn't a man aboard that wouldn't have been a brother to her." "There's her little bonnet and cloak, and the bag she had said Ben.  All this time the doctor had been holding the girl's wrist, laying his hand over her heart, holding a little pocket-mirror to her lips. Now he laid the hand down very gently, drew the blanket over the little shoulders, straightened himself, and said slowly : " I beg your pardon, captain, this is not a dead woman. She is alive and likely to live." "'Alive!' "every voice repeated the word, and a cheer went up to the blue sky.