"Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on
him?Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch
pitch will be defiled; the most peaceable way for you, if you do take
a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your
company."--Much Ado About Nothing.
We left the brigantine of Capt. Spike in a very critical situation,
and the master himself in great confusion of mind.
A thorough seaman, this accident would never have happened, but for
the sudden appearance of the boat and its passengers; one of whom
appeared to be a source of great uneasiness to him. As might be
expected, the circumstance of striking a place as dangerous as the
Pot Rock in Hell-Gate, produced a great sensation on board the
vessel. This sensation betrayed itself in various ways, and
according to the characters, habits, and native firmness of the
parties. As for the ship-master's relict, she seized hold of the
main-mast, and screamed so loud and perseveringly, as to cause the
sensation to extend itself into the adjacent and thriving village of
Astoria, where it was distinctly heard by divers of those who dwelt
near the water. Biddy Noon had her share in this clamour, lying down
on the deck in order to prevent rolling over, and possibly to scream
more at her leisure, while Rose had sufficient self-command to be
silent, though her cheeks lost their colour.
Nor was there anything extraordinary in females betraying this
alarm, when one remembers the somewhat astounding signs of danger by
which these persons were surrounded. There is always something
imposing in the swift movement of a considerable body of water. When
this movement is aided by whirlpools and the other similar
accessories of an interrupted current, it frequently becomes
startling, more especially to those who happen to be on the element
itself. This is peculiarly the case with the Pot Rock, where, not
only does the water roll and roar as if agitated by a mighty wind,
but where it even breaks, the foam seeming to glance up stream, in
the rapid succession of wave to wave. Had the Swash remained in her
terrific berth more than a second or two, she would have proved what
is termed a "total loss;" but she did not. Happily, the Pot Rock
lies so low that it is not apt to fetch up anything of a light
draught of water, and the brigantine's fore-foot had just settled on
its summit, long enough to cause the vessel to whirl round and make
her obeisance to the place, when a succeeding swell lifted her
clear, and away she went down stream, rolling as if scudding in a
gale, and, for a moment, under no command whatever. There lay
another danger ahead, or it would be better to say astern, for the
brig was drifting stern foremost; and that was in an eddy under a
bluff, which bluff lies at an angle in the reach, where it is no
uncommon thing for craft to be cast ashore, after they have passed
all the more imposing and more visible dangers above. It was in
escaping this danger, and in recovering the command of his vessel,
that Spike now manifested the sort of stuff of which he was really
made, in emergencies of this sort. The yards were all sharp up when
the accident occurred, and springing to the lee braces, just as a
man winks when his eye is menaced, he seized the weather fore-brace
with his own hands, and began to round in the yard, shouting out to
the man at the wheel to "port his helm" at the same time. Some of
the people flew to his assistance, and the yards were not only
squared, but braced a little up on the other tack, in much less time
than we have taken to relate the evolution. Mulford attended to the
main-sheet, and succeeded in getting the boom out in the right
direction. Although the wind was in truth very light, the velocity
of the drift filled the canvas, and taking the arrow-like current on
her lee bow, the Swash, like a frantic steed that is alarmed with
the wreck made by his own madness, came under command, and sheered
out into the stream again, where she could drift clear of the
apprehended danger astern.
"Sound the pumps!" called out Spike to Mulford, the instant he saw
he had regained his seat in the saddle. Harry sprang amidships to
obey, and the eye of every mariner in that vessel was on the young
man, as, in the midst of a death-like silence, he performed this
all-important duty. It was like the physician's feeling the pulse of
his patient before he pronounces on the degree of his danger.
"Well, sir?" cried out Spike, impatiently, as the rod reappeared.
"All right, sir," answered Harry, cheerfully--"the well is nearly
empty."
"Hold on a moment longer, and give the water time to find its way
amidships, if there be any."
The mate remained perched up on the pump, in order to comply, while
Spike and his people, who now breathed more freely again, improved
the leisure to brace up and haul aft, to the new course.
"Biddy," said Mrs. Budd considerately, during this pause in the
incidents, "you need n't scream any longer. The danger seems to be
past, and you may get up off the deck now. See, I have let go of the
mast. The pumps have been sounded, and are found tight."
Biddy, like an obedient and respectful servant, did as directed,
quite satisfied if the pumps were tight. It was some little time, to
be sure, before she was perfectly certain whether she were alive or
not--but, once certain of this circumstance, her alarm very sensibly
abated, and she became reasonable. As for Mulford, he dropped the
sounding rod again, and had the same cheering report to make.
"The brig is as tight as a bottle, sir."
"So much the better," answered Spike. "I never had such a whirl in
her before in my life, and I thought she was going to stop and pass
the night there. That's the very spot on which `The Hussar' frigate
was wrecked."
"So I have heard, sir. But she drew so much water that she hit slap
against the rock, and started a butt. We merely touched on its top
with our fore-foot, and slid off."
This was the simple explanation of the Swash's escape, and,
everybody being now well assured that no harm had been done, things
fell into their old and regular train again. As for Spike, his
gallantry, notwithstanding, was upset for some hours, and glad
enough was he when he saw all three of his passengers quit the deck
to go below. Mrs. Budd's spirits had been so much agitated that she
told Rose she would go down into the cabin and rest a few minutes on
its sofa. We say sofa, for that article of furniture, now-a-days, is
far more common in vessels than it was thirty years ago in the
dwellings of the country.
"There, Mulford," growled Spike, pointing ahead of the brig, to an
object on the water that was about half a mile ahead of them,
"there's that bloody boat--d'ye see? I should like of all things to
give it the slip. There's a chap in that boat I do n't like."
"I do n't see how that can be very well done, sir, unless we anchor,
repass the Gate at the turn of the tide, and go to sea by the way of
Sandy Hook."
"That will never do. I've no wish to be parading the brig before the
town. You see, Mulford, nothing can be more innocent and proper than
the Molly Swash, as you know from having sailed in her these twelve
months. You'll give her that character, I'll be sworn?"
"I know no harm of her, Capt. Spike, and hope I never shall."
"No, sir--you know no harm of her, nor does any one else. A nursing
infant is not more innocent than the Molly Swash, or could have a
clearer character if nothing but truth was said of her. But the
world is so much given to lying, that one of the old saints, of whom
we read in the good book, such as Calvin and John Rogers, would be
vilified if he lived in these times. Then, it must be owned, Mr.
Mulford, whatever may be the raal innocence of the brig, she has a
most desperate wicked look."
"Why, yes, sir--it must be owned she is what we sailors call a
wicked-looking craft. But some of Uncle Sam's cruisers have that
appearance, also."
"I know it--I know it, sir, and think nothing of looks myself. Men
are often deceived in me, by my looks, which have none of your
long-shore softness about 'em, perhaps; but my mother used to say I
was one of the most tender-hearted boys she had ever heard spoken
of--like one of the babes in the woods, as it might be. But mankind
go so much by appearances that I do n't like to trust the brig too
much afore their eyes. Now, should we be seen in the lower bay,
waiting for a wind, or for the ebb tide to make, to carry us over
the bar, ten to one but some philotropic or other would be off with
a complaint to the District Attorney that we looked like a slaver,
and have us all fetched up to be tried for our lives as pirates. No,
no--I like to keep the brig in out-of-the-way places, where she can
give no offence to your 'tropics, whether they be philos, or of any
other sort."
"Well, sir, we are to the eastward of the Gate, and all's safe. That
boat cannot bring us up."
"You forget, Mr. Mulford, the revenue-craft that steamed up, on the
ebb. That vessel must be off Sands' Point by this time, and she may
hear something to our disparagement from the feller in the boat, and
take it into her smoky head to walk us back to town. I wish we were
well to the eastward of that steamer! But there's no use in
lamentations. If there is really any danger, it's some distance
ahead yet, thank Heaven!"
"You have no fears of the man who calls himself Jack Tier, Capt.
Spike?"
"None in the world. That feller, as I remember him, was a little
bustlin' chap that I kept in the cabin, as a sort of steward's mate.
There was neither good nor harm in him, to the best of my
recollection. But Josh can tell us all about him--just give Josh a
call."
The best thing in the known history of Spike was the fact that his
steward had sailed with him for more than twenty years. Where he had
picked up Josh no one could say, but Josh and himself, and neither
chose to be very communicative on the subject. But Josh had
certainly been with him as long as he had sailed the Swash, and that
was from a time actually anterior to the birth of Mulford. The mate
soon had the negro in the council.
"I say, Josh," asked Spike, "do you happen to remember such a hand
aboard here as one Jack Tier?"
"Lor' bless you, yes sir--'members he as well as I do the pea soup
that was burnt, and which you t'rowed all over him, to scald him for
punishment."
"I've had to do that so often, to one careless fellow or other, that
the circumstance does n't recall the man. I remember him--but not as
clear as I could wish. How long did he sail with us?"
"Sebberal v'y'ge, sir, and got left ashore down on the main, one
night, when'e boat were obliged to shove off in a hurry. Yes,
'members little Jack, right well I does."
"Did you see the man that spoke us from the wharf, and hailed for
this very Jack Tier?"
"I see'd a man, sir, dat was won'erful Jack Tier built like, sir,
but I did n't hear the conwersation, habbin' the ladies to 'tend to.
But Jack was oncommon short in his floor timbers, sir, and had no
length of keel at all. His beam was won'erful for his length,
altogedder--what you call jolly-boat, or bum-boat build, and was
only good afore'e wind, Cap'n Spike."
"Was he good for anything aboard ship, Josh? Worth heaving-to for,
should he try to get aboard of us again?"
"Why, sir, can't say much for him in dat fashion. Jack was handy in
the cabin, and capital feller to carry soup from the gally, aft. You
see, sir, he was so low-rigged that the brig's lurchin' and pitchin'
could n't get him off his pins, and he stood up like a church in the
heaviest wea'der. Yes, sir, Jack was right good for dat."
Spike mused a moment--then he rolled the tobacco over in his mouth,
and added, in the way a man speaks when his mind is made up--"Ay
ay! I see into the fellow. He'll make a handy lady's maid, and we
want such a chap just now. It's better to have an old friend aboard,
than to be pickin' up strangers, 'long shore. So, should this Jack
Tier come off to us, from any of the islands or points ahead, Mr.
Mulford, you'll round to and take him aboard. As for the steamer, if
she will only pass out into the Sound where there's room, it shall
go hard with us but I get to the eastward of her, without speaking.
On the other hand, should she anchor this side of the fort, I'll not
attempt to pass her. There is deep water inside of most of the
islands, I know, and we'll try and dodge her in that way, if no
better offer. I've no more reason than another craft to fear a
government vessel, but the sight of one of them makes me
oncomfortable; that's all."
Mulford shrugged his shoulders and remained silent, perceiving that
his commander was not disposed to pursue the subject any further. In
the mean time, the brig had passed beyond the influence of the
bluff, and was beginning to feel a stronger breeze, that was coming
down the wide opening of Flushing Bay. As the tide still continued
strong in her favour, and her motion through the water was getting
to be four or five knots, there was every prospect of her soon
reaching Whitestone, the point where the tides meet, and where it
would become necessary to anchor; unless, indeed, the wind, which
was now getting to the southward and eastward, should come round
more to the south. All this Spike and his mate discussed together,
while the people were clearing the decks, and making the
preparations that are customary on board a vessel before she gets
into rough water.
By this time it was ascertained that the brig had received no damage
by her salute of the Pot Rock, and every trace of uneasiness on that
account was removed. But Spike kept harping on the boat, and "the
pilot-looking chap who was in her." As they passed Riker's Island,
all hands expected a boat would put off with a pilot, or to demand
pilotage; but none came, and the Swash now seemed released from all
her present dangers, unless some might still be connected with the
revenue steamer. To retard her advance, however, the wind came out a
smart working breeze from the southward and eastward, compelling her
to make "long legs and short ones" on her way towards Whitestone.
"This is beating the wind, Rosy dear," said Mrs. Budd, complacently,
she and her niece having returned to the deck a few minutes after
this change had taken place. "Your respected uncle did a great deal
of this in his time, and was very successful in it. I have heard him
say, that in one of his voyages between Liverpool and New York, he
beat the wind by a whole fortnight, everybody talking of it in the
insurance offices, as if it was a miracle."
"Ay, ay, Madam Budd," put in Spike, "I'll answer for that. They're
desperate talkers in and about them there insurance offices in Wall
street. Great gossips be they, and they think they know everything.
Now just because this brig is a little old or so, and was built for
a privateer in the last war, they'd refuse to rate her as even B,
No. 2, and my blessing on 'em."
"Yes, B, No. 2, that's just what your dear uncle used to call me,
Rosy--his charming B, No. 2, or Betsy, No. 2; particularly when he
was in a loving mood. Captain Spike, did you ever beat the wind in a
long voyage?"
"I can't say I ever did, Mrs. Budd," answered Spike, looking grimly
around, to ascertain if any one dared to smile at his passenger's
mistake; "especially for so long a pull as from New York to
Liverpool."
"Then your uncle used to boast of the Rose In Bloom's wearing and
attacking. She would attack anything that came in her way, no matter
who, and as for wearing, I think he once told me she would wear just
what she had a mind to, like any human being."
Rose was a little mystified, but she looked vexed at the same time,
as if she distrusted all was not right.
"I remember all my sea education," continued the unsuspecting widow,
"as if it had been learnt yesterday. Beating the wind and attacking
ship, my poor Mr. Budd used to say, were nice manoeuvres, and
required most of his tactics, especially in heavy weather. Did you
know, Rosy dear, that sailors weigh the weather, and know when it is
heavy and when it is light?"
"I did not, aunt; nor do I understand now how it can very well be
done."
"Oh! child, before you have been at sea a week, you will learn so
many things that are new, and get so many ideas of which you never
had any notion before, that you'll not be the same person. My
captain had an instrument he called a thermometer, and with that he
used to weigh the weather, and then he would write down in the
log-book `today, heavy weather, or to-morrow, light weather,' just
as it happened, and that helped him mightily along in his voyages."
"Mrs. Budd has merely mistaken the name of the instrument--the
`barometer' is what she wished to say," put in Mulford, opportunely.
Rose looked grateful, as well as relieved. Though profoundly
ignorant on these subjects herself, she had always suspected her
aunt's knowledge. It was, consequently, grateful to her to ascertain
that, in this instance, the old lady's mistake had been so trifling.
"Well, it may have been the barometer, for I know he had them both,"
resumed the aunt. "Barometer, or thermometer, it do n't make any
great difference; or quadrant, or sextant. They are all instruments,
and sometimes he used one, and sometimes another. Sailors take on
board the sun, too, and have an instrument for that, as well as one
to weigh the weather with. Sometimes they take on board the stars,
and the moon, and `fill their ships with the heavenly bodies,' as
I've heard my dear husband say, again and again! But the most
curious thing at sea, as all sailors tell me, is crossing the line,
and I do hope we shall cross the line, Rosy, that you and I may see
it."
"What is the line, aunty, and how do vessels cross it."
"The line, my dear, is a place in the ocean where the earth is
divided into two parts, one part being called the North Pole, and
the other part the South Pole. Neptune lives near this line, and he
allows no vessel to go out of one pole into the other, without
paying it a visit. Never! never!--he would as soon think of living
on dry land as think of letting even a canoe pass, without visiting
it."
"Do you suppose there is such a being, really, as Neptune, aunty?"
"To be sure I do; he is king of the sea. Why should n't there be?
The sea must have a king, as well as the land."
"The sea may be a republic, aunty, like this country; then, no king
is necessary. I have always supposed Neptune to be an imaginary
being."
"Oh that's impossible--the sea is no republic; there are but two
republics, America and Texas. I've heard that the sea is a highway,
it is true--the `highway of nations,' I believe it is called, and
that must mean something particular. But my poor Mr. Budd always
told me that Neptune was king of the seas, and he was always so
accurate, you might depend on everything he said. Why, he called his
last Newfoundland dog Neptune; and do you think, Rosy, that your
dear uncle would call his dog after an imaginary being?--and he a
man to beat the wind, and attack ship, and take the sun, moon and
stars aboard! No, no, child; fanciful folk may see imaginary beings,
but solid folk see solid beings."
Even Spike was dumfounded at this, and there is no knowing what he
might have said, had not an old sea-dog, who had just come out of
the fore-topmast cross-trees, come aft, and, hitching up his
trowsers with one hand while he touched his hat with the other, said
with immoveable gravity,
"The revenue-steamer has brought up just under the fort, Capt.
Spike."
"How do you know that, Bill?" demanded the captain, with a rapidity
that showed how completely Mrs. Budd and all her absurdities were
momentarily forgotten.
"I was up on the fore-topgallant yard, sir, a bit ago, just to look
to the strap of the jewel-block, which wants some sarvice on it, and
I see'd her over the land, blowin' off steam and takin' in her
kites. Afore I got out of the cross-trees, she was head to wind
under bare-poles, and if she had n't anchored, she was about to do
so. I'm sartin 't was she, sir, and that she was about to bring up."
Spike gave a long, low whistle, after his fashion, and he walked
away from the females, with the air of a man who wanted room to
think in. Half a minute later, he called out--"Stand by to shorten
sail, boys. Man fore-clew-garnets, flying jib down haul, topgallant
sheets, and gaff-topsail gear. In with 'em all, my lads--in with
everything, with a will."
An order to deal with the canvas in any way, on board ship,
immediately commands the whole attention of all whose duty it is to
attend to such matters, and there was an end of all discourse while
the Swash was shortening sail. Everybody understood, too, that it
was to gain time, and prevent the brig from reaching Throg's Neck
sooner than was desirable.
"Keep the brig off," called out Spike, "and let her ware--we're too
busy to tack just now."
The man at the wheel knew very well what was wanted, and he put his
helm up, instead of putting it down, as he might have done without
this injunction. As this change brought the brig before the wind,
and Spike was in no hurry to luff up on the other tack, the Swash
soon ran over a mile of the distance she had already made, putting
her back that much on her way to the Neck. It is out of our power to
say what the people of the different craft in sight thought of all
this, but an opportunity soon offered of putting them on a wrong
scent. A large coasting schooner, carrying everything that would
draw on a wind, came sweeping under the stern of the Swash, and
hailed.
"Has anything happened, on board that brig?" demanded her master.
"Man overboard," answered Spike--"you hav'nt seen his hat, have
you?"
"No--no," came back, just as the schooner, in her onward course,
swept beyond the reach of the voice. Her people collected together,
and one or two ran up the rigging a short distance, stretching their
necks, on the look-out for the "poor fellow," but they were soon
called down to "'bout ship." In less than five minutes, another
vessel, a rakish coasting sloop, came within hail.
"Did n't that brig strike the Pot Rock, in passing the Gate?"
demanded her captain.
"Ay, ay!--and a devil of a rap she got, too."
This satisfied him; there being nothing remarkable in a vessel's
acting strangely that had hit the Pot Rock in passing Hell Gate.
"I think we may get in our mainsail on the strength of this, Mr.
Mulford," said Spike. "There can be nothing oncommon in a craft's
shortening sail, that has a man overboard, and which has hit the Pot
Rock. I wonder I never thought of all this before."
`Here is a skiff trying to get alongside of us, Capt. Spike," called
out the boatswain.
"Skiff be d--d! I want no skiff here."
"The man that called himself Jack Tier is in her, sir."
"The d--l he is!" cried Spike, springing over to the opposite side
of the deck to take a look for himself. To his infinite satisfaction
he perceived that Tier was alone in the skiff, with the exception of
a negro, who pulled its sculls, and that this was a very different
boat from that which had glanced through Hell Gate, like an arrow
darting from its bow.
"Luff, and shake your topsail," called out Spike. "Get a rope there
to throw to this skiff."
The orders were obeyed, and Jack Tier, with his clothes-bag, was
soon on the deck of the Swash. As for the skiff and the negro, they
were cast adrift the instant the latter had received his quarter.
The meeting between Spike and his quondam steward's mate was a
little remarkable. Each stood looking intently at the other, as if
to note the changes which time had made. We cannot say that Spike's
hard, red, selfish countenance betrayed any great feeling, though
such was not the case with Jack Tier's. The last, a lymphatic, puffy
sort of a person at the best, seemed really a little touched, and he
either actually brushed a tear from his eye, or he affected so to
do.
"So, you are my old shipmate, Jack Tier, are ye?" exclaimed Spike,
in a half-patronizing, half-hesitating way--"and you want to try the
old craft ag'in. Give us a leaf of your log, and let me know where
you have been this many a day, and what you have been about? Keep
the brig off, Mr. Mulford. We are in no particular hurry to reach
Throg's, you'll remember, sir."
Tier gave an account of his proceedings, which could have no
interest with the reader. His narrative was anything but very clear,
and it was delivered in a cracked, octave sort of a voice, such as
little dapper people not unfrequently enjoy--tones between those of
a man and a boy. The substance of the whole story was this. Tier had
been left ashore, as sometimes happens to sailors, and, by necessary
connection, was left to shift for himself. After making some vain
endeavours to rejoin his brig, he had shipped in one vessel after
another, until he accidentally found himself in the port of New
York, at the same time as the Swash. He know'd he never should be
truly happy ag'in until he could once more get aboard the old hussy,
and had hurried up to the wharf, where he understood the brig was
lying. As he came in sight, he saw she was about to cast off, and,
dropping his clothes-bag, he had made the best of his way to the
wharf, where the conversation passed that has been related.
"The gentleman on the wharf was about to take boat, to go through
the Gate," concluded Tier, "and so I begs a passage of him. He was
good-natured enough to wait until I could find my bag, and as soon
a'terwards as the men could get their grog we shoved off. The Molly
was just getting in behind Blackwell's as we left the wharf, and,
having four good oars, and the shortest road, we come out into the
Gate just ahead on you. My eye! what a place that is to go through
in a boat, and on a strong flood! The gentleman, who watched the
brig as a cat watches a mouse, says you struck on the Pot, as he
called it, but I says `no,' for the Molly Swash was never know'd to
hit rock or shoal in my time aboard her."
"And where did you quit that gentleman, and what has become of him?"
asked Spike.
"He put me ashore on that point above us, where I see'd a nigger
with his skiff, who I thought would be willin' to 'arn his quarter
by giving me a cast alongside. So here I am, and a long pull I've
had to get here."
As this was said, Jack removed his hat and wiped his brow with a
handkerchief, which, if it had never seen better days, had doubtless
been cleaner. After this, he looked about him, with an air not
entirely free from exultation.
This conversation had taken place in the gangway, a somewhat public
place, and Spike beckoned to his recruit to walk aft, where he might
be questioned without being overheard.
"What became of the gentleman in the boat, as you call him?"
demanded Spike.
"He pulled ahead, seeming to be in a hurry."
"Do you know who he was?"
"Not a bit of it. I never saw the man before, and he did n't tell me
his business, sir."
"Had he anything like a silver oar about him."
"I saw nothing of the sort, Capt. Spike, and knows nothing
consarning him."
"What sort of a boat was he in, and where did he get it?"
"Well, as to the boat, sir, I can say a word, seein' it was so much
to my mind, and pulled so wonderful smart. It was a light ship's
yawl, with four oars, and came round the Hook just a'ter you had got
the brig's head round to the eastward. You must have seen it, I
should think, though it kept close in with the wharves, as if it
wished to be snug."
"Then the gentleman, as you call him, expected that very boat to
come and take him off?"
"I suppose so, sir, because it did come and take him off. That's all
I knows about it."
"Had you no jaw with the gentleman? You was n't mnm the whole time
you was in the boat with him?"
"Not a bit of it, sir. Silence and I does n't agree together long,
and so we talked most of the time."
"And what did the stranger say of the brig?"
"Lord, sir, he catechised me like as if I had been a child at
Sunday-school. He asked me how long I had sailed in her; what ports
we'd visited, and what trade we'd been in. You can't think the sight
of questions he put, and how cur'ous he was for the answers."
"And what did you tell him in your answers? You said nothin' about
our call down on the Spanish Main, the time you were left ashore, I
hope, Jack?"
"Not I, sir. I played him off surprisin'ly. He got nothin' to count
upon out of me. Though I do owe the Molly Swash a grudge, I'm not
goin' to betray her."
"You owe the Molly Swash a grudge! Have I taken an enemy on board
her, then?"
Jack started, and seemed sorry he had said so much; while Spike eyed
him keenly. But the answer set all right. It was not given, however,
without a moment for recollection.
"Oh, you knows what I mean, sir. I owe the old hussy a grudge for
having desarted me like; but it's only a love quarrel atween us. The
old Molly will never come to harm by my means."
"I hope not, Jack. The man that wrongs the craft he sails in can
never be a true-hearted sailor. Stick by your ship in all weathers
is my rule, and a good rule it is to go by. But what did you tell
the stranger?"
"Oh! I told him I'd been six v'y'ges in the brig. The first was to
Madagascar--"
"The d--l you did? Was he soft enough to believe that?"
"That's more than I knows, sir. I can only tell you what I said; I
do n't pretend to know how much he believed."
"Heave ahead--what next?"
"Then I told him we went to Kamschatka for gold dust and ivory."
"Whe-e-ew! What did the man say to that?"
"Why, he smiled a bit, and a'ter that he seemed more cur'ous than
ever to hear all about it. I told him my third v'y'ge was to Canton,
with a cargo of broom-corn, where we took in salmon and dun-fish for
home. A'ter that we went to Norway with ice, and brought back silks
and money. Our next run was to the Havana, with salt and 'nips--"
"'Nips! what the devil be they?"
"Turnips, you knows, sir. We always calls 'em 'nips in cargo. At the
Havana I told him we took in leather and jerked beef, and came home.
Oh! he got nothin' from me, Capt. Spike, that'll ever do the brig a
morsel of harm!"
"I am glad of that, Jack. You must know enough of the seas to
understand that a close mouth is sometimes better for a vessel than
a clean bill of health. Was there nothing said about the
revenue-steamer?"
"Now you name her, sir, I believe there was--ay, ay, sir, the
gentleman did say, if the steamer fetched up to the westward of the
fort, that he should overhaul her without difficulty, on this flood.
"That'll do, Jack; that'll do, my honest fellow. Go below, and tell
Josh to take you into the cabin again, as steward's mate. You're
rather too Dutch built, in your old age, to do much aloft."
One can hardly say whether Jack received this remark as
complimentary, or not. He looked a little glum, for a man may be as
round as a barrel, and wish to be thought genteel and slender; but
he went below, in quest of Josh, without making any reply.
The succeeding movements of Spike appeared to be much influenced by
what he had just heard. He kept the brig under short canvas for near
two hours, sheering about in the same place, taking care to tell
everything which spoke him that he had lost a man overboard. In this
way, not only the tide, but the day itself, was nearly spent. About
the time the former began to lose its strength, however, the
fore-course and the main-sail were got on the brigantine, with the
intention of working her up toward Whitestone, where the tides meet,
and near which the revenue-steamer was known to be anchored. We say
near, though it was, in fact, a mile or two more to the eastward,
and close to the extremity of the Point.
Notwithstanding these demonstrations of a wish to work to windward,
Spike was really in no hurry. He had made up his mind to pass the
steamer in the dark, if possible, and the night promised to favour
him; but, in order to do this, it might be necessary not to come in
sight of her at all; or, at least, not until the obscurity should in
some measure conceal his rig and character. In consequence of this
plan, the Swash made no great progress, even after she had got sail
on her, on her old course. The wind lessened, too, after the sun
went down, though it still hung to the eastward, or nearly ahead. As
the tide gradually lost its force, moreover, the set to windward
became less and less, until it finally disappeared altogether.
There is necessarily a short reach in this passage, where it is
always slack water, so far as current is concerned. This is
precisely where the tides meet, or, as has been intimated, at
Whitestone, which is somewhat more than a mile to the westward of
Throgmorton's Neck, near the point of which stands Fort Schuyler,
one of the works recently erected for the defence of New York. Off
the pitch of the point, nearly mid-channel, had the steamer
anchored, a fact of which Spike had made certain, by going aloft
himself, and reconnoitering her over the land, before it had got to
be too dark to do so. He entertained no manner of doubt that this
vessel was in waiting for him, and he well knew there was good
reason for it; but he would not return and attempt the passage to
sea by way of Sandy Hook. His manner of regarding the whole matter
was cool and judicious. The distance to the Hook was too great to be
made in such short nights ere the return of day, and he had no
manner of doubt he was watched for in that direction, as well as in
this. Then he was particularly unwilling to show his craft at all in
front of the town, even in the night. Moreover, he had ways of his
own for effecting his purposes, and this was the very spot and time
to put them in execution.
While these things were floating in his mind, Mrs. Budd and her
handsome niece were making preparations for passing the night, aided
by Biddy Noon. The old lady was factotum, or factota, as it might be
most classical to call her, though we are entirely without
authorities on the subject, and was just as self-complacent and
ambitious of seawomanship below decks, as she had been above board.
The effect, however, gave Spike great satisfaction, since it kept
her out of sight, and left him more at liberty to carry out his own
plans. About nine, however, the good woman came on deck, intending
to take a look at the weather, like a skilful marineress as she was,
before she turned in. Not a little was she astonished at what she
then and there beheld, as she whispered to Rose and Biddy, both of
whom stuck close to her side, feeling the want of good pilotage, no
doubt, in strange waters.
The Molly Swash was still under her canvas, though very little
sufficed for her present purposes. She was directly off Whitestone,
and was making easy stretches across the passage, or river, as it is
called, having nothing set but her huge fore-and-aft mainsail and
the jib. Under this sail she worked like a top, and Spike sometimes
fancied she travelled too fast for his purposes, the night air
having thickened the canvas as usual, until it "held the wind as a
bottle holds water." There was nothing in this, however, to attract
the particular attention of the ship-master's widow, a sail, more or
less, being connected with observation much too critical for her
schooling, nice as the last had been. She was surprised to find the
men stripping the brig forward, and converting her into a schooner.
Nor was this done in a loose and slovenly manner, under favour of
the obscurity. On the contrary, it was so well executed that it
might have deceived even a seaman under a noon-day sun, provided the
vessel were a mile or two distant. The manner in which the
metamorphosis was made was as follows: the studding-sail booms had
been taken off the topsail-yard, in order to shorten it to the eye,
and the yard itself was swayed up about half-mast, to give it the
appearance of a schooner's fore-yard. The brig's real lower yard was
lowered on the bulwarks, while her royal yard was sent down
altogether, and the topgallant-mast was lowered until the heel
rested on the topsail yard, all of which, in the night, gave the
gear forward very much the appearance of that of a fore-topsail
schooner, instead of that of a half-rigged brig, as the craft really
was. As the vessel carried a try-sail on her foremast, it answered
very well, in the dark, to represent a schooner's foresail. Several
other little dispositions of this nature were made, about which it
might weary the uninitiated to read, but which will readily suggest
themselves to the mind of a sailor.
These alterations were far advanced when the females re-appeared on
deck. They at once attracted their attention, and the captain's
widow felt the imperative necessity, as connected with her
professional character, of proving the same. She soon found Spike,
who was bustling around the deck, now looking around to see that his
brig was kept in the channel, now and then issuing an order to
complete her disguise.
"Captain Spike, what can be the meaning of all these changes? The
tamper of your vessel is so much altered that I declare I should not
have known her!"
"Is it, by George! Then she is just in the state I want her to be
in."
"But why have you done it--and what does it all mean?"
"Oh, Molly's going to bed for the night, and she's only undressing
herself--that's all."
"Yes, Rosy dear, Captain Spike is right. I remember that my poor Mr.
Budd used to talk about The Rose In Bloom having her clothes on, and
her clothes off, just as if she was a born woman! But do n't you
mean to navigate at all in the night, Captain Spike? Or will the
brig navigate without sails?"
"That's it--she's just as good in the dark, under one sort of
canvas, as under another. So, Mr. Mulford, we'll take a reef in that
mainsail; it will bring it nearer to the size of our new foresail,
and seem more ship-shape and Brister fashion--then I think she'll
do, as the night is getting to be rather darkish."
"Captain Spike," said the boatswain, who had been set to look-out
for that particular change--"the brig begins to feel the new tide,
and sets to windward."
"Let her go, then--now is as good a time as another. We've got to
run the gantlet, and the sooner it is done the better."
As the moment seemed propitious, not only Mulford, but all the
people, heard this order with satisfaction. The night was
star-light, though not very clear at that. Objects on the water,
however, were more visible than those on the land, while those on
the last could be seen well enough, even from the brig, though in
confused and somewhat shapeless piles. When the Swash was brought
close by the wind, she had just got into the last reach of the
"river," or that which runs parallel with the Neck for near a mile,
doubling where the Sound expands itself, gradually, to a breadth of
many leagues. Still the navigation at the entrance of this end of
the Sound was intricate and somewhat dangerous, rendering it
indispensable for a vessel of any size to make a crooked course. The
wind stood at south-east, and was very scant to lay through the
reach with, while the tide was so slack as barely to possess a
visible current at that place. The steamer lay directly off the
Point, mid-channel, as mentioned, showing lights, to mark her
position to anything which might be passing in or out. The great
thing was to get by her without exciting her suspicion. As all on
board, the females excepted, knew what their captain was at, the
attempt was made amid an anxious and profound silence; or, if any
one spoke at all, it was only to give an order in a low tone, or its
answer in a simple monosyllable.
Although her aunt assured her that everything which had been done
already, and which was now doing, was quite in rule, the quick-eyed
and quick-witted Rose noted these unusual proceedings, and had an
opinion of her own on the subject. Spike had gone forward, and
posted himself on the weather-side of the forecastle, where he could
get the clearest look ahead, and there he remained most of the time,
leaving Mulford on the quarter-deck, to work the vessel, Perceiving
this, she managed to get near the mate, without attracting her
aunt's attention, and at the same time out of ear-shot.
"Why is everybody so still and seemingly so anxious, Harry Mulford?"
she asked, speaking in a low tone herself, as if desirous of
conforming to a common necessity. "Is there any new danger here? I
thought the Gate had been passed altogether, some hours ago?"
"So it has. D'ye see that large dark mass on the water, off the
Point, which seems almost as huge as the fort, with lights above it?
That is a revenue-steamer which came out of York a few hours before
us. We wish to get past her without being troubled by any of her
questions."
"And what do any in this brig care about her questions? They can be
answered, surely."
"Ay, ay, Rose--they may be answered, as you say, but the answers
sometimes are unsatisfactory. Captain Spike, for some reason or
other, is uneasy, and would rather not have anything to say to her.
He has the greatest aversion to speaking the smallest craft when on
a coast."
"And that's the reason he has undressed his Molly, as he calls her,
that he might not be known."
Mulford turned his head quickly toward his companion, as if
surprised by her quickness of apprehension, but he had too just a
sense of his duty to make any reply. Instead of pursuing the
discourse, he adroitly contrived to change it, by pointing out to
Rose the manner in which they were getting on, which seemed to be
very successfully.
Although the Swash was under much reduced canvas, she glided along
with great ease and with considerable rapidity of motion. The heavy
night air kept her canvas distended, and the weatherly set of the
tide, trifling as it yet was, pressed her up against the breeze, so
as to turn all to account. It was apparent enough, by the manner in
which objects on the land were passed, that the crisis was fast
approaching. Rose rejoined her aunt, in order to await the result,
in nearly breathless expectation. At that moment, she would have
given the world to be safe on shore. This wish was not the
consequence of any constitutional timidity, for Rose was much the
reverse from timid, but it was the fruit of a newly-awakened and
painful, though still vague, suspicion. Happy, thrice happy was it
for one of her naturally confiding and guileless nature, that
distrust was thus opportunely awakened, for she was without a
guardian competent to advise and guide her youth, as circumstances
required.
The brig was not long in reaching the passage that opened to the
Sound. It is probable she did this so much the sooner because Spike
kept her a little off the wind, with a view of not passing too near
the steamer. At this point, the direction of the passage changes at
nearly a right angle, the revenue-steamer lying on a line with the
Neck, and leaving a sort of bay, in the angle, for the Swash to
enter. The land was somewhat low in all directions but one, and that
was by drawing a straight line from the Point, through the steamer,
to the Long Island shore. On the latter, and in that quarter, rose a
bluff of considerable elevation, with deep water quite near it; and,
under the shadows of that bluff, Spike intended to perform his
nicest evolutions. He saw that the revenue vessel had let her fires
go down, and that she was entirely without steam. Under canvas, he
had no doubt of beating her hand over hand, could he once fairly get
to windward; and then she was at anchor, and would lose some time in
getting under way, should she even commence a pursuit. It was all
important, therefore, to gain as much to windward as possible,
before the people of the government vessel took the alarm.
There can be no doubt that the alterations made on board the Swash
served her a very good turn on this occasion. Although the night
could not be called positively dark, there was sufficient obscurity
to render her hull confused and indistinct at any distance, and this
so much the more when seen from the steamer outside, or between her
and the land. All this Spike very well understood, and largely
calculated on. In effect he was not deceived; the look-outs on board
the revenue craft could trace little of the vessel that was
approaching beyond the spars and sails which rose above the shores,
and these seemed to be the spars and sails of a common foretopsail
schooner. As this was not the sort of craft for which they were on
the watch, no suspicion was awakened, nor did any reports go from
the quarter-deck to the cabin. The steamer had her quarter watches,
and officers of the deck, like a vessel of war, the discipline of
which was fairly enough imitated, but even a man-of-war may be
overreached on an occasion.
Spike was only great in a crisis, and then merely as a seaman. He
understood his calling to its minuti, and he understood the Molly
Swash better than he understood any other craft that floated. For
more than twenty years had he sailed her, and the careful parent
does not better understand the humours of the child, than he
understood exactly what might be expected from his brig. His
satisfaction sensibly increased, therefore, as she stole along the
land, toward the angle mentioned, without a sound audible but the
gentle gurgling of the water, stirred by the stem, and which sounded
like the ripple of the gentlest wave, as it washes the shingle of
some placid beach.
As the brig drew nearer to the bluff, the latter brought the wind
more ahead, as respected the desired course. This was unfavourable,
but it did not disconcert her watchful commander.
"Let her come round, Mr. Mulford," said this pilot-captain, in a low
voice--"we are as near in as we ought to go."
The helm was put down, the head sheets started, and away into the
wind shot the Molly Swash, fore-reaching famously in stays, and, of
course, gaining so much on her true course. In a minute she was
round, and filled on the other tack. Spike was now so near the land,
that he could perceive the tide was beginning to aid him, and that
his weatherly set was getting to be considerable. Delighted at this,
he walked aft, and told Mulford to go about again as soon as the
vessel had sufficient way to make sure of her in stays. The mate
inquired if he did not think the revenue people might suspect
something, unless they stood further out toward mid-channel, but
Spike reminded him that they would be apt to think the schooner was
working up under the southern shore, because the ebb first made
there. This reason satisfied Mulford, and, as soon as they were
half-way between the bluff and the steamer, the Swash was again
tacked, with her head to the former. This manoeuvre was executed
when the brig was about two hundred yards from the steamer, a
distance that was sufficient to preserve, under all the
circumstances, the disguise she had assumed.
"They do not suspect us, Harry!" whispered Spike to his mate. "We
shall get to windward of 'em, as sartain as the breeze stands. That
boatin' gentleman might as well have staid at home, as for any good
his hurry done him or his employers!"
"Whom do you suppose him to be, Captain Spike?"
"Who,--a feller that lives by his own wicked deeds. No matter who he
is. An informer, perhaps. At any rate, he is not the man to outwit
the Molly Swash, and her old, stupid, foolish master and owner,
Stephen Spike. Luff, Mr. Mulford, luff. Now's the time to make the
most of your leg--Luff her up and shake her. She is setting to
windward fast, the ebb is sucking along that bluff like a boy at a
molasses hogshead. All she can drift on this tack is clear gain;
there is no hurry, so long as they are asleep aboard the steamer.
That's it--make a half-board at once, but take care and not come
round. As soon as we are fairly clear of the bluff, and open the bay
that makes up behind it, we shall get the wind more to the
southward, and have a fine long leg for the next stretch."
Of course Mulford obeyed, throwing the brig up into the wind, and
allowing her to set to windward, but filling again on the same tack,
as ordered. This, of course, delayed her progress toward the land,
and protracted the agony, but it carried the vessel in the direction
she most wished to go, while it kept her not only end on to the
steamer, but in a line with the bluff, and consequently in the
position most favourable to conceal her true character. Presently,
the bay mentioned, which was several miles deep, opened darkly
toward the south, and the wind came directly out of it, or more to
the southward. At this moment the Swash was near a quarter of a mile
from the steamer, and all that distance dead to windward of her, as
the breeze came out of the bay. Spike tacked his vessel himself now,
and got her head up so high that she brought the steamer on her lee
quarter, and looked away toward the island which lies northwardly
from the Point, and quite near to which all vessels of any draught
of water are compelled to pass, even with the fairest winds.
"Shake the reef out of the mainsail, Mr. Mulford," said Spike, when
the Swash was fairly in motion again on this advantageous tack. "We
shall pass well to windward of the steamer, and may as well begin to
open our cloth again."
"Is it not a little too soon, sir?" Mulford ventured to remonstrate;
"the reef is a large one, and will make a great difference in the
size of the sail."
"They'll not see it at this distance. No, no, sir, shake out the
reef, and sway away on the topgallant-mast rope; I'm for bringing
the Molly Swash into her old shape again, and make her look handsome
once more."
"Do you dress the brig, as well as undress her, o'mights; Captain
Spike?" inquired the ship-master's reliet, a little puzzled with
this fickleness of purpose. "I do not believe my poor Mr. Budd ever
did that."
"Fashions change, madam, with the times--ay, ay, sir--shake out the
reef, and sway away on that mast-rope, boys, as soon as you have
manned it. We'll convart our schooner into a brig again."
As these orders were obeyed, of course, a general bustle now took
place. Mulford soon had the reef out, and the sail distended to the
utmost, while the topgallant-mast was soon up and fidded. The next
thing was to sway upon the fore-yard, and get that into its place.
The people were busied at this duty, when a hoarse hail came across
the water on the heavy night air.
"Brig ahoy!" was the call.
"Sway upon that fore-yard," said Spike, unmoved by this
summons--"start it, start it at once."
"The steamer hails us, sir," said the mate.
"Not she. She is hailing a brig; we are a schooner yet."
A moment of active exertion succeeded, during which the fore-yard
went into its place. Then came a second hail.
"Schooner, ahoy!" was the summons this time.
"The steamer hails us again, Captain Spike."
"The devil a bit. We're a brig now, and she hails a schooner. Come
boys, bestir yourselves, and get the canvas on Molly for'ard. Loose
the fore-course before you quit the yard there, then up aloft and
loosen everything you can find."
All was done as ordered, and done rapidly, as is ever the case on
board a well-ordered vessel when there is occasion for exertion.
That occasion now appeared to exist in earnest, for while the men
were sheeting home the topsail, a flash of light illuminated the
scene, when the roar of a gun came booming across the water,
succeeded by the very distinct whistling of its shot. We regret that
the relict of the late Captain Budd did not behave exactly as became
a shipmaster's widow, under fire. Instead of remaining silent and
passive, even while frightened, as was the case with Rose, she
screamed quite as loud as she had previously done that very day in
Hell-Gate. It appeared to Spike, indeed, that practice was making
her perfect; and, as for Biddy, the spirit of emulation became so
powerful in her bosom, that, if anything, she actually outshrieked
her mistress. Hearing this, the widow made a second effort, and
fairly recovered the ground some might have fancied she had lost.
"Oh! Captain Spike," exclaimed the agitated widow, "do not--do not,
if you love me, do not let them fire again!"
"How am I to help it!" asked the captain, a good deal to the point,
though he overlooked the essential fact, that, by heaving-to, and
waiting for the steamer's boat to board him, he might have prevented
a second shot, as completely as if he had the ordering of the whole
affair. No second shot was fired, however. As it afterward appeared,
the screams of Mrs. Budd and Biddy were heard on board the steamer,
the captain of which, naturally enough, supposing that the slaughter
must be terrible where such cries had arisen, was satisfied with the
mischief he had already done, and directed his people to secure
their gun and go to the capstan-bars, in order to help lift the
anchor. In a word, the revenue vessel was getting under way,
man-of-war fashion, which means somewhat expeditiously.
Spike understood the sounds that reached him, among which was the
call of the boatswain, and he bestirred himself accordingly.
Experienced as he was in chases and all sorts of nautical artifices,
he very well knew that his situation was sufficiently critical. It
would have been so, with a steamer at his heels, in the open ocean;
but, situated as he was, he was compelled to steer but one course,
and to accept the wind on that course as it might offer. If he
varied at all in his direction it was only in a trifling way, though
he did make some of these variations. Every moment was now precious,
however, and he endeavoured to improve the time to the utmost. He
knew that he could greatly outsail the revenue vessel, under canvas,
and some time would be necessary to enable her to get up her steam;
half an hour at the very least. On that half hour, then, depended
the fate of the Molly Swash.
"Send the booms on the yards, and set stun'sails at once, Mr.
Mulford," said Spike, the instant the more regular canvas was spread
forward. "This wind will be free enough for all but the lower
stun'sail, and we must drive the brig on."
"Are we not looking up too high, Captain Spike? The Stepping-Stones
are ahead of us, sir."
"I know that very well, Mulford. But it's nearly high water, and the
brig's in light trim, and we may rub and go. By making a short cut
here, we shall gain a full mile on the steamer; that mile may save
us."
"Do you really think it possible to get away from that craft, which
can always make a fair wind of it, in these narrow waters, Captain
Spike?"
"One don't know, sir. Nothin' is done without tryin', and by tryin'
more is often done than was hoped for. I have a scheme in my head,
and Providence may favour me in bringing it about."
Providence! The religionist quarrels with the philosopher if the
latter happen to remove this interposition of a higher power, even
so triflingly as by the intervention of secondary agencies, while
the biggest rascal dignifies even his success by such phrases as
Providential aid! But it is not surprising men should misunderstand
terms, when they make such sad confusion in the acts which these
terms are merely meant to represent. Spike had his Providence as
well as a priest, and we dare say he often counted on its succour,
with quite as rational grounds of dependence as many of the
pharisees who are constantly exclaiming, "The Temple of the Lord,
the Temple of the Lord are these."
Sail was made on board the Swash with great rapidity, and the brig
made a bold push at the Stepping-Stones. Spike was a capital pilot.
He insisted if he could once gain sight of the spar that was moored
on those rocks for a buoy, he should run with great confidence. The
two lights were of great assistance, of course; but the revenue
vessel could see these lights as well as the brig, and she,
doubtless, had an excellent pilot on board. By the time the
studding-sails were set on board the Swash, the steamer was aweigh,
and her long line of peculiar sails became visible. Unfortunately
for men who were in a hurry, she lay so much within the bluff as to
get the wind scant, and her commander thought it necessary to make a
stretch over to the southern shore, before he attempted to lay his
course. When he was ready to tack, an operation of some time with a
vessel of her great length, the Swash was barely visible in the
obscurity, gliding off upon a slack bowline, at a rate which nothing
but the damp night air, the ballast-trim of the vessel, united to
her excellent sailing qualities, could have produced with so light a
breeze.
The first half hour took the Swash completely out of sight of the
steamer. In that time, in truth, by actual superiority in sailing,
by her greater state of preparation, and by the distance saved by a
bold navigation, she had gained fully a league on her pursuer. But,
while the steamer had lost sight of the Swash, the latter kept the
former in view, and that by means of a signal that was very
portentous. She saw the light of the steamer's chimneys, and could
form some opinion of her distance and position.
It was about eleven o'clock when the Swash passed the light at
Sands' Point, close in with the land. The wind stood much as it had
been. If there was a change at all, it was half a point more to the
southward, and it was a little fresher. Such as it was, Spike saw he
was getting, in that smooth water, quite eight knots out of his
craft, and he made his calculations thereon. As yet, and possibly
for half an hour longer, he was gaining, and might hope to continue
to gain on the steamer. Then her turn would come. Though no great
traveller, it was not to be expected that, favoured by smooth water
and the breeze, her speed would be less than ten knots, while there
was no hope of increasing his own without an increase of the wind.
He might be five miles in advance, or six at the most; these six
miles would be overcome in three hours of steaming, to a dead
certainty, and they might possibly be overcome much sooner. It was
obviously necessary to resort to some other experiment than that of
dead sailing, if an escape was to be effected.
The Sound was now several miles in width, and Spike, at first,
proposed to his mate, to keep off dead before the wind, and by
crossing over to the north shore, let the steamer pass ahead, and
continue a bootless chase to the eastward. Several vessels, however,
were visible in the middle of the passage, at distances varying from
one to three miles, and Mulford pointed out the hopelessness of
attempting to cross the sheet of open water, and expect to go unseen
by the watchful eyes of the revenue people.
"What you say is true enough, Mr. Mulford," answered Spike, after a
moment of profound reflection, "and every foot that they come
nearer, the less will be our chance. But here is Hempstead Harbour a
few leagues ahead; if we can reach that before the blackguards
close, we may do well enough. It is a deep bay, and has high land to
darken the view. I don't think the brig could be seen at midnight by
anything outside; if she was once fairly up that water a mile or
two."
"That is our chance, sir!" exclaimed Mulford cheerfully. "Ay, ay, I
know the spot; and everything is favourable--try that, Captain
Spike; I'll answer for it that we go clear."
Spike did try it. For a considerable time longer he stood on,
keeping as close to the land as he thought it safe to run, and
carrying everything that would draw. But the steamer was on his
heels, evidently gaining fast. Her chimneys gave out flames, and
there was every sign that her people were in earnest. To those on
board the Swash these flames seemed to draw nearer each instant, as
indeed was the fact, and just as the breeze came fresher out of the
opening in the hills, or the low mountains, which surround the place
of refuge in which they designed to enter, Mulford announced that by
aid of the night-glass he could distinguish both sails and hull of
their pursuer. Spike took a look, and throwing down the instrument,
in a way to endanger it, he ordered the studding-sails taken in. The
men went aloft like cats, and worked as if they could stand in air.
In a minute or two the Swash was under what Mrs. Budd might have
called her "attacking" canvas, and was close by the wind, looking on
a good leg well up the harbour. The brig seemed to be conscious of
the emergency, and glided ahead at capital speed. In five minutes
she had shut in the flaming chimneys of the steamer. In five minutes
more Spike tacked, to keep under the western side of the harbour,
and out of sight as long as possible, and because he thought the
breeze drew down fresher where he was than more out in the bay.
All now depended on the single fact whether the brig had been seen
from the steamer or not, before she hauled into the bay. If seen,
she had probably been watched; if not seen, there were strong
grounds for hoping that she might still escape. About a quarter of
an hour after Spike hauled up, the burning chimneys came again into
view. The brig was then half a league within the bay, with a fine
dark background of hills to throw her into shadow. Spike ordered
everything taken in but the trysail, under which the brig was left
to set slowly over toward the western side of the harbour. He now
rubbed his hands with delight, and pointed out to Mulford the
circumstance that the steamer kept on her course directly athwart
the harbour's mouth! Had she seen the Swash, no doubt she would have
turned into the bay also. Nevertheless, an anxious ten minutes
succeeded, during which the revenue vessel steamed fairly past, and
shut in her flaming chimneys again by the eastern headlands of the
estuary.