Chapter 6

  "At the piping of all hands,
  When the judgment signal's spread--
  When the islands and the land,
  And the seas give up their dead,
  And the south and the north shall come;
  When the sinner is dismayed,
  And the just man is afraid,
  Then heaven be thy aid,
  Poor Tom."

--Brainard.

The people had now a cessation from their toil. Of all the labour
known to sea-faring men, that of pumping is usually thought to be
the most severe. Those who work at it have to be relieved every
minute, and it is only by having gangs to succeed each other, that
the duty can be done at all with anything like steadiness. In the
present instance, it is true, that the people of the Swash were
sustained by the love of gold, but glad enough were they when
Mulford called out to them to "knock off, and turn in for the
night." It was high time this summons should be made, for not only
were the people excessively wearied, but the customary hours of
labour were so far spent, that the light of the moon had some time
before begun to blend with the little left by the parting sun. Glad
enough were all hands to quit the toil; and two minutes were
scarcely elapsed ere most of the crew had thrown themselves down,
and were buried in deep sleep. Even Spike and Mulford took the rest
they needed, the cook alone being left to look out for the changes
in the weather. In a word, everybody but this idler was exhausted
with pumping and bailing, and even gold had lost its power to charm,
until nature was recruited by rest.

The excitement produced by the scenes through which they had so
lately passed, caused the females to sleep soundly, too. The
death-like stillness which pervaded the vessel contributed to their
rest, and Rose never woke, from the first few minutes after her head
was on her pillow, until near four in the morning. The deep quiet
seemed ominous to one who had so lately witnessed the calm which
precedes the tornado, and she arose. In that low latitude and warm
season, few clothes were necessary, and our heroine was on deck in a
very few minutes. Here she found the same grave-like sleep pervading
everything. There was not a breath of air, and the ocean seemed to
be in one of its profoundest slumbers. The hard-breathing of Spike
could be heard through the open windows of his state-room, and this
was positively the only sound that was audible. The common men, who
lay scattered about the decks, more especially from the mainmast
forward, seemed to be so many logs, and from Mulford no breathing
was heard.

The morning was neither very dark nor very light, it being easy to
distinguish objects that were near, while those at a distance were
necessarily lost in obscurity. Availing herself of the circumstance,
Rose went as far as the gangway, to ascertain if the cook were at
his post. She saw him lying near his galley, in as profound a sleep
as any of the crew. This she felt to be wrong, and she felt alarmed,
though she knew not why. Perhaps it was the consciousness of being
the only person up and awake at that hour of deepest night, in a
vessel so situated as the Swash, and in a climate in which
hurricanes seem to be the natural offspring of the air. Some one
must be aroused, and her tastes, feelings, and judgment, all pointed
to Harry Mulford as the person she ought to awaken. He slept
habitually in his clothes--the lightest summer dress of the tropics;
and the window of his little state-room was always open for air.
Moving lightly to the place, Rose laid her own little, soft hand on
the arm of the young man, when the latter was on his feet in an
instant. A single moment only was necessary to regain his
consciousness, when Mulford left the state-room and joined Rose on
the quarter-deck.

"Why am I called, Rose," the young man asked, attempering his voice
to the calm that reigned around him; "and why am I called by you?"

Rose explained the state of the brig, and the feeling which induced
her to awaken him. With woman's gentleness she now expressed her
regret for having robbed Harry of his rest; had she reflected a
moment, she might have kept watch herself, and allowed him to obtain
the sleep he must surely so much require.

But Mulford laughed at this; protested he had never been awakened at
a more favourable moment, and would have sworn, had it been proper,
that a minute's further sleep would have been too much for him.
After these first explanations, Mulford walked round the decks,
carefully felt how much strain there was on the purchases, and
rejoined Rose to report that all was right, and that he did not
consider it necessary to call even the cook. The black was an idler
in no sense but that of keeping watch, and he had toiled the past
day as much as any of the men, though it was not exactly at the
pumps.

A long and semi-confidential conversation now occurred between Harry
and Rose. They talked of Spike, the brig, and her cargo, and of the
delusion of the captain's widow. It was scarcely possible that
powder should be so much wanted at the Havanna as to render
smuggling, at so much cost, a profitable adventure; and Mulford
admitted his convictions that the pretended flour was originally
intended for Mexico. Rose related the tenor of the conversation she
had overheard between the two parties, Don Juan and Don Esteban, and
the mate no longer doubted that it was Spike's intention to sell the
brig to the enemy. She also alluded to what had passed between
herself and the stranger.

Mulford took this occasion to introduce the subject of Jack Tier's
intimacy and favour with Rose. He even professed to feel some
jealousy on account of it, little as there might be to alarm most
men in the rivalry of such a competitor. Rose laughed, as girls will
laugh when there is question of their power over the other sex, and
she fairly shook her rich tresses as she declared her determination
to continue to smile on Jack to the close of the voyage. Then, as if
she had said more than she intended, she added with woman's
generosity and tenderness,--"After all, Harry, you know how much I
promised to you even before we sailed, and how much more since, and
have no just cause to dread even Jack. There is another reason,
however, that ought to set your mind entirely at case on his
account. Jack is married, and has a partner living at this very
moment, as he does not scruple to avow himself."

A hissing noise, a bright light, and a slight explosion, interrupted
the half-laughing girl, and Mulford, turning on his heel, quick as
thought, saw that a rocket had shot into the air, from a point close
under the bows of the brig. He was still in the act of moving toward
the forecastle, when, at the distance of several leagues, he saw the
explosion of another rocket high in the air. He knew enough of the
practices of vessels of war, to feel certain that these were a
signal and its answer from some one in the service of government.
Not at all sorry to have the career of the Swash arrested, before
she could pass into hostile hands, or before evil could befall Rose,
Mulford reached the forecastle just in time to answer the inquiry
that was immediately put to him, in the way of a hail. A gig,
pulling four oars only, with two officers in its stern-sheets, was
fairly under the vessel's bows, and the mate could almost
distinguish the countenance of the officer who questioned him, the
instant he showed his head and shoulders above the bulwarks.

"What vessels are these?" demanded the stranger, speaking in the
authoritative manner of one who acted for the state, but not
speaking much above the usual conversational tone.

"American and Spanish," was the answer. "This brig is American--the
schooner alongside is a Spaniard, that turned turtle in a tornado,
about six-and-thirty hours since, and on which we have been hard at
work trying to raise her, since the gale which succeeded the tornado
has blown its pipe out."

"Ay, ay, that's the story, is it? I did not know what to make of
you, lying cheek by jowl, in this fashion. Was anybody lost on board
the schooner?"

"All hands, including every soul aft and forward, the supercargo
excepted, who happened to be aboard here. We buried seventeen bodies
this afternoon on the smallest of the Keys that you see near at
hand, and two this morning alongside of the light. But what boat is
that, and where are you from, and whom are you signalling?"

"The boat is a gig," answered the stranger, deliberately, "and she
belongs to a cruiser of Uncle Sam's, that is off the reef, a short
bit to the eastward, and we signalled our captain. But I'll come on
board you, sir, if you please."

Mulford walked aft to meet the stranger at the gangway, and was
relieved, rather than otherwise, at finding that Spike was already
on the quarter-deck. Should the vessel of war seize the brig, he
could rejoice at it, but so strong were his professional ideas of
duty to the craft he sailed in, that he did not find it in his heart
to say aught against her. Were any mishap to befall it, or were
justice to be done, he preferred that it might be done under Spike's
own supervision, rather than under his.

"Call all hands, Mr. Mulford," said Spike, as they met. "I see a
streak of day coming yonder in the east--let all hands be called at
once. What strange boat is this we have alongside?"

This question was put to the strangers, Spike standing on his
gangway-ladder to ask it, while the mate was summoning the crew. The
officer saw that a new person was to be dealt with, and in his
quiet, easy way, he answered, while stretching out his hands to take
the man-rope--"Your servant, sir--we are man-of-war's men,
belonging to one of Uncle Sam's craft, outside, and have just come
in to pay you a visit of ceremony. I told one, whom I suppose was
your mate, that I would just step on board of you."

"Ay, ay--one at a time, if you please. It's war-time, and I cannot
suffer armed boat's crews to board me at night, without knowing
something about them. Come up yourself, if you please, but order
your people to stay in the boat. Here, muster about this gangway,
half a dozen of you, and keep an eye on the crew of this strange
boat."

These orders had no effect on the cool and deliberate lieutenant,
who ascended the brig's side, and immediately stood on her deck. No
sooner had he and Spike confronted each other, than each gave a
little start, like that of recognition, and the lieutenant spoke.

"Ay, ay--I believe I know this vessel now. It is the Molly Swash, of
New York, bound to Key West, and a market; and I have the honour to
see Captain Stephen Spike again."

It was Mr. Wallace, the second lieutenant of the sloop-of-war that
had boarded the brig in the Mona Passage, and to avoid whom Spike
had gone to the southward of Jamaica. The meeting was very
mal-…-propos, but it would not do to betray that the captain and
owner of the vessel thought as much as this; on the contrary,
Wallace was warmly welcomed, and received, not only as an old
acquaintance, but as a very agreeable visiter. To have seen the two,
as they walked aft together, one might have supposed that the
meeting was conducive of nothing but a very mutual satisfaction, it
was so much like that which happens between those who keep up a
hearty acquaintance.

"Well, I'm glad to see you again, Captain Spike," cried Wallace,
after the greetings were passed, "if it be only to ask where you
flew to, the day we left you in the Mona Passage? We looked out for
you with all our eyes, expecting you would be down between San
Domingo and Jamaica, but I hardly think you got by us in the night.
Our master thinks you must have dove, and gone past loon-fashion. Do
you ever perform that manoeuvre?"

"No, we've kept above water the whole time, lieutenant," answered
Spike, heartily; "and that is more than can be said of the poor
fellow alongside of us. I was so much afraid of the Isle of Pines,
that I went round Jamaica."

"You might have given the Isle of Pines a berth, and still have
passed to the northward of the Englishmen," said Wallace, a little
drily. "However, that island is somewhat of a scarecrow, and we have
been to take a look at it ourselves. All's right there, just now.
But you seem light; what have you done with your flour?"

"Parted with every barrel of it. You may remember I was bound to Key
West, and a market. Well, I found my market here, in American
waters."

"You have been lucky, sir. This `emporium' does not seem to be
exactly a commercial emporium."

"The fact is, the flour is intended for the Havanna; and I fancy it
is to be shipped for slavers. But I am to know nothing of all that,
you'll understand, lieutenant. If I sell my flour in American
waters, at two prices, it's no concern of mine what becomes of it
a'terwards."

"Unless it happen to pass into enemy's hands, certainly not; and you
are too patriotic to deal with Mexico, just now, I'm sure. Pray, did
that flour go down when the schooner turned turtle?"

"Every barrel of it; but Don Wan, below there, thinks that most of
it may yet be saved, by landing it on one of those Keys to dry.
Flour, well packed, wets in slowly. You see we have some of it on
deck."

"And who may Don Wan be, sir, pray? We are sent here to look after
Dons and Donas, you know."

"Don Wan is a Cuban merchant, and deals in such articles as he
wants. I fell in with him among the reefs here, where he was
rummaging about in hopes of meeting with a wrack, he tells me, and
thinking to purchase something profitable in that way; but finding I
had flour, he agreed to take it out of me at this anchorage, and
send me away in ballast at once. I have found Don Wan Montefalderon
ready pay, and very honourable."

Wallace then requested an explanation of the disaster, to the
details of which he listened with a sailor's interest. He asked a
great many questions, all of which bore on the more nautical
features of the event; and, day having now fairly appeared, he
examined the purchases and backings of the Swash with professional
nicety. The schooner was no lower in the water than when the men had
knocked off work the previous night; and Spike set the people at the
pumps and their bailing again, as the most effectual method of
preventing their making any indiscreet communications to the
man-of-war's men.

About this time the relict appeared on deck, when Spike gallantly
introduced the lieutenant anew to his passengers. It is true he knew
no name to use, but that was of little moment, as he called the
officer "the lieutenant," and nothing else.

Mrs. Budd was delighted with this occasion to show-off, and she soon
broke out on the easy, indolent, but waggish Wallace, in a strain to
surprise him, notwithstanding the specimen of the lady's skill from
which he had formerly escaped.

"Captain Spike is of opinion, lieutenant, that our cast-anchor here
is excellent, and I know the value of a good cast-anchor place; for
my poor Mr. Budd was a sea-faring man, and taught me almost as much
of your noble profession as he knew himself."

"And he taught you, ma'am," said Wallace, fairly opening his eyes,
under the influence of astonishment, "to be very particular about
cast-anchor places!"

"Indeed he did. He used to say, that roads-instead were never as
good, for such purposes, as land that's locked havens, for the
anchors would return home, as he called it, in roads-instead."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Wallace, looking very queer at first, as if
disposed to laugh outright, then catching a glance of Rose, and
changing his mind; "I perceive that Mr. Budd knew what he was about,
and preferred an anchorage where he was well land-locked, and where
there was no danger of his anchors coming home, as so often happens
in your open roadsteads."

"Yes, that's just it! That was just his notion! You cannot feel how
delightful it is, Rose, to converse with one that thoroughly
understands such subjects! My poor Mr. Budd did, indeed, denounce
roads-instead, at all times calling them `savage.'"

"Savage, aunt," put in Rose, hoping to stop the good relict by her
own interposition--"that is a strange word to apply to an
anchorage!"

"Not at all, young lady," said Wallace gravely. "They are often wild
berths, and wild berths are not essentially different from wild
beasts. Each is savage, as a matter of course."

"I knew I was right!" exclaimed the widow. "Savage cast-anchors come
of wild births, as do savage Indians. Oh! the language of the ocean,
as my poor Mr. Budd used to say, is eloquence tempered by common
sense!"

Wallace stared again, but his attention was called to other things,
just at that moment. The appearance of Don Juan Montefalderon y
Castro on deck, reminded him of his duty, and approaching that
gentleman he condoled with him on the grave loss he had sustained.
After a few civil expressions on both sides, Wallace made a delicate
allusion to the character of the schooner.

"Under other circumstances," he said, "it might be my duty to
inquire a little particularly as to the nationality of your vessel,
Se¤or, for we are at war with the Mexicans, as you doubtless know."

"Certainly," answered Don Juan, with an unmoved air and great
politeness of manner, "though it would be out of my power to satisfy
you. Everything was lost in the schooner, and I have not a paper of
any sort to show you. If it be your pleasure to make a prize of a
vessel in this situation, certainly it is in your power to do it. A
few barrels of wet flour are scarce worth disputing about."

Wallace now seemed a little ashamed, the sang froid of the other
throwing dust in his eyes, and he was in a hurry to change the
subject. Se¤or Don Juan was very civilly condoled with again, and he
was made to repeat the incidents of the loss, as if his auditor took
a deep interest in what he said, but no further hint was given
touching the nationality of the vessel. The lieutenant's tact let
him see that Se¤or Montefalderon was a person of a very different
calibre from Spike, as well as of different habits; and he did not
choose to indulge in the quiet irony that formed so large an
ingredient in his own character, with this new acquaintance. He
spoke Spanish himself, with tolerable fluency, and a conversation
now occurred between the two, which was maintained for some time
with spirit and a very manifest courtesy.

This dialogue between Wallace and the Spaniard gave Spike a little
leisure for reflection. As the day advanced the cruiser came more
and more plainly in view, and his first business was to take a good
survey of her. She might have been three leagues distant, but
approaching with a very light breeze, at the rate of something less
than two knots in the hour. Unless there was some one on board her
who was acquainted with the channels of the Dry Tortugas, Spike felt
little apprehension of the ship's getting very near to him; but he
very well understood that, with the sort of artillery that was in
modern use among vessels of war, he would hardly be safe could the
cruiser get within a league. That near Uncle Sam's craft might
certainly come without encountering the hazards of the channels, and
within that distance she would be likely to get in the course of the
morning, should he have the complaisance to wait for her. He
determined, therefore, not to be guilty of that act of folly.

All this time the business of lightening the schooner proceeded.
Although Mulford earnestly wished that the man-of-war might get an
accurate notion of the true character and objects of the brig, he
could not prevail on himself to become an informer. In order to
avoid the temptation so to do, he exerted himself in keeping the men
at their tasks, and never before had pumping and bailing been
carried on with more spirit. The schooner soon floated of herself,
and the purchases which led to the Swash were removed. Near a
hundred more barrels of the flour had been taken out of the hold of
the Spanish craft, and had been struck on the deck of the brig, or
sent to the Key by means of the boats. This made a material change
in the buoyancy of the vessel, and enabled the bailing to go on with
greater facility. The pumps were never idle, but two small streams
of water were running the whole time toward the scuppers, and
through them into the sea.

At length the men were ordered to knock off, and to get their
breakfasts. This appeared to arouse Wallace, who had been chatting,
quite agreeably to himself, with Rose, and seemed reluctant to
depart, but who now became sensible that he was neglecting his duty.
He called away his boat's crew, and took a civil leave of the
passengers; after which he went over the side. The gig was some
little distance from the Swash, when Wallace rose and asked to see
Spike, with whom he had a word to say at parting.

"I will soon return," he said, "and bring you forty or fifty fresh
men, who will make light work with your wreck. I am certain our
commander will consent to my doing so, and will gladly send on board
you two or three boat's crews."

"If I let him," muttered Spike between his teeth, "I shall be a
poor, miserable cast-anchor devil, that's all."

To Wallace, however, he expressed his hearty acknowledgments; begged
him not to be in a hurry, as the worst was now over, and the row was
still a long one. If he got back toward evening it would be all in
good time. Wallace waved his hand, and the gig glided away. As for
Spike, he sat down on the plank-sheer where he had stood, and
remained there ruminating intently for two or three minutes. When he
descended to the deck his mind was fully made up. His first act was
to give some private orders to the boatswain, after which he
withdrew to the cabin, whither he summoned Tier, without delay.

"Jack," commenced the captain, using very little circumlocution in
opening his mind, "you and I are old shipmates, and ought to be old
friends, though I think your natur' has undergone some changes since
we last met. Twenty years ago there was no man in the ship on whom I
could so certainly depend as on Jack Tier; now, you seem given up
altogether to the women. Your mind has changed even more than your
body."

"Time does that for all of us, Captain Spike," returned Tier coolly.
"I am not what I used to be, I'll own, nor are you yourself, for
that matter. When I saw you last, noble captain, you were a handsome
man of forty, and could go aloft with any youngster in the brig;
but, now, you're heavy, and not over-active."

"I!--Not a bit of change has taken place in me for the last thirty
years. I defy any man to show the contrary. But that's neither here
nor there; you are no young woman, Jack, that I need be boasting of
my health and beauty before you. I want a bit of real sarvice from
you, and want it done in old-times fashion; and I mean to pay for it
in old-times fashion, too."

As Spike concluded, he put into Tier's hand one of the doubloons
that he had received from Se¤or Montefalderon, in payment for the
powder. The doubloons, for which so much pumping and bailing were
then in process, were still beneath the waters of the gulf.

"Ay, ay, sir," returned Jack, smiling and pocketing the gold, with a
wink of the eye, and a knowing look; "this does resemble old times
sum'at. I now begin to know Captain Spike, my old commander again,
and see that he's more like himself than I had just thought him.
What am I to do for this, sir? speak plain, that I may be sartain to
steer the true course."

"Oh, just a trifle, Jack--nothing that will break up the ground-tier
of your wits, my old shipmate. You see the state of the brig, and
know that she is in no condition for ladies."

"'T would have been better all round, sir, had they never come
aboard at all," answered Jack, looking dark.

Spike was surprised, but he was too much bent on his projects to
heed trifles.

"You know what sort of flour they're whipping out of the schooner,
and must understand that the brig will soon be in a pretty litter. I
do not intend to let them send a single barrel of it beneath my
hatches again, but the deck and the islands must take it all. Now I
wish to relieve my passengers from the confinement this will
occasion, and I have ordered the boatswain to pitch a tent for them
on the largest of these here Tortugas; and what I want of you, is to
muster food and water, and other women's knicknacks, and go ashore
with them, and make them as comfortable as you can for a few days,
or until we can get this schooner loaded and off."

Jack Tier looked at his commander as if he would penetrate his most
secret thoughts. A short pause succeeded, during which the steward's
mate was intently musing, then his countenance suddenly brightened;
he gave the doubloon a fillip, and caught it on the palm of his hand
as it descended, and he uttered the customary "Ay, ay, sir," with
apparent cheerfulness. Nothing more passed between these two
worthies, who now parted, Jack to make his arrangements, and Spike
to "tell his yarn," as he termed the operation in his own mind, to
Mrs. Budd, Rose, and Biddy. The widow listened complacently, though
she seemed half doubting, half ready to comply. As for Rose, she
received the proposal with delight--The confinement of the vessel
having become irksome to her. The principal obstacle was in
overcoming the difficulties made by the aunt, Biddy appearing to
like the notion quite as much as "Miss Rosy." As for the
light-house, Mrs. Budd had declared nothing would induce her to go
there; for she did not doubt that the place would soon be, if it
were not already, haunted. In this opinion she was sustained by
Biddy; and it was the knowledge of this opinion that induced Spike
to propose the tent.

"Are you sure, Captain Spike, it is not a desert island?" asked the
widow; "I remember that my poor Mr. Budd always spoke of desert
islands as horrid places, and spots that every one should avoid."

"What if it is, aunty," said Rose eagerly, "while we have the brig
here, close at hand. We shall suffer none of the wants of such a
place, so long as our friends can supply us."

"And such friends, Miss Rose," exclaimed Spike, a little
sentimentally for him, "friends that would undergo hunger and thirst
themselves, before you should want for any comforts."

"Do, now, Madam Budd," put in Biddy in her hearty way, "it's an
island, ye'll remimber: and sure that's just what ould Ireland has
ever been, God bless it! Islands make the pleasantest risidences."

"Well I'll venture to oblige you and Biddy, Rosy, dear," returned
the aunt, still half reluctant to yield; "but you'll remember, that
if I find it at all a desert island, I'll not pass the night on it
on any account whatever."

With this understanding the party was transferred to the shore. The
boatswain had already erected a sort of a tent, on a favourable
spot, using some of the old sails that had covered the
flour-barrels, not only for the walls, but for a carpet of some
extent also. This tent was ingeniously enough contrived. In addition
to the little room that was entirely enclosed, there was a sort of
piazza, or open verandah, which would enable its tenants to enjoy
the shade in the open air. Beneath this verandah, a barrel of fresh
water was placed, as well as three or four ship's stools, all of
which had been sent ashore with the materials for constructing the
tent. The boat had been going and coming for some time, and the
distance being short, the "desert island" was soon a desert no
longer. It is true that the supplies necessary to support three
women for as many days, were no great matter, and were soon landed,
but Jack Tier had made a provision somewhat more ample. A capital
caterer, he had forgotten nothing within the compass of his means,
that could contribute to the comfort of those who had been put
especially under his care. Long before the people "knocked off" for
their dinners, the arrangements were completed, and the boatswain
was ready to take his leave.

"Well, ladies," said that grum old salt, "I can do no more for you,
as I can see. This here island is now almost as comfortable as a
ship that has been in blue water for a month, and I do n't know how
it can be made more comfortabler."

This was only according to the boatswain's notion of comfort; but
Rose thanked him for his care in her winning way, while her aunt
admitted that, "for a place that was almost a desert island, things
did look somewhat promising." In a few minutes the men were all
gone, and the islet was left to the sole possession of the three
females, and their constant companion, Jack Tier. Rose was pleased
with the novelty of her situation, though the islet certainly did
deserve the opprobrium of being a "desert island." There was no
shade but that of the tent, and its verandah-like covering, though
the last, in particular, was quite extensive. There was no water,
that in the barrel and that of the ocean excepted. Of herbage there
was very little on this islet, and that was of the most meagre and
coarse character, being a long wiry grass, with here and there a few
stunted bushes. The sand was reasonably firm, however, more
especially round the shore, and the walking was far from unpleasant.
Little did Rose know it, but a week earlier, the spot would have
been next to intolerable to her, on account of the musquitoes,
gallinippers, and other similar insects of the family of tormentors;
but everything of the sort had temporarily disappeared in the
currents of the tornado. To do Spike justice, he was aware of this
circumstance, or he might have hesitated about exposing females to
the ordinary annoyances of one of these spots. Not a musquito, or
anything of the sort was left, however, all having gone to leeward,
in the vortex which had come so near sweeping off the Mexican
schooner.

"This place will do very well, aunty, for a day or two," cried Rose
cheerfully, as she returned from a short excursion, and threw aside
her hat, one made to shade her face from the sun of a warm climate,
leaving the sea-breeze that was just beginning to blow, to fan her
blooming and sunny cheeks. "It is better than the brig. The worst
piece of land is better than the brig."

"Do not say that, Rose--not if it's a desert island, dear; and this
is desperately like a desert island; I am almost sorry I ventured on
it."

"It will not be deserted by us, aunty, until we shall see occasion
to do so. Why not endeavour to get on board of yonder ship, and
return to New York in her; or at least induce her captain to put us
ashore somewhere near this, and go home by land. Your health never
seemed better than it is at this moment; and as for mine, I do
assure you, aunty, dear, I am as perfectly well as I ever was in my
life."

"All from this voyage. I knew it would set you up, and am delighted
to hear you say as much. Biddy and I were talking of you this very
morning, my child, and we both agreed that you were getting to be
yourself again. Oh, ships, and brigs, and schooners, full-jigger or
half-jigger, for pulmonary complaints, say I! My poor Mr. Budd
always maintained that the ocean was the cure for all diseases, and
I determined that to sea you should go, the moment I became alarmed
for your health."

The good widow loved Rose most tenderly, and she was obliged to use
her handkerchief to dry the tears from her eyes as she concluded.
Those tears sprung equally from a past feeling of apprehension, and
a present feeling of gratitude. Rose saw this, and she took a seat
at her aunt's side, touched herself, as she never failed to be on
similar occasions with this proof of her relative's affection. At
that moment even Harry Mulford would have lost a good deal in her
kind feelings toward him, had he so much as smiled at one of the
widow's nautical absurdities. At such times, Rose seemed to be her
aunt's guardian and protectress, instead of reversing the relations,
and she entirely forgot herself the many reasons which existed for
wishing that she had been placed in childhood, under the care of one
better qualified than the well-meaning relict of her uncle, for the
performance of her duties.

"Thank you, aunty--thank'ee, dear aunty," said Rose, kissing the
widow affectionately. "I know that you mean the best for me, though
you are a little mistaken in supposing me ill. I do assure you,
dear," patting her aunt's cheek, as if she herself had been merely a
playful child, "I never was better; and if I have been pulmonary, I
am entirely cured, and am now ready to return home."

"God be praised for this, Rosy. Under His divine providence, it is
all owing to the sea. If you really feel so much restored, however,
I do not wish to keep you a moment longer on a ship's board than is
necessary. We owe something to Captain Spike's care, and cannot quit
him too unceremoniously; but as soon as he is at liberty to go into
a harbour, I will engage him to do so, and we can return home by
land--unless, indeed, the brig intends to make the home voyage
herself."

"I do not like this brig, aunty, and now we are out of her, I wish
we could keep out of her. Nor do I like your Captain Spike, who
seems to me anything but an agreeable gentleman."

"That's because you arn't accustomed to the sea. My poor Mr. Budd
had his ways, like all the rest of them; it takes time to get
acquainted with them. All sailors are so."

Rose bent her face involuntarily, but so low as to conceal the
increasing brightness of her native bloom, as she answered,

"Harry Mulford is not so, aunty, dear--and he is every inch a
sailor."

"Well, there is a difference, I must acknowledge, though I dare say
Harry will grow every day more and more like all the rest of them.
In the end, he will resemble Captain Spike."

"Never," said Rose, firmly.

"You can't tell, child. I never saw your uncle when he was Harry's
age, for I was n't born till he was thirty, but often and often has
he pointed out to me some slender, genteel youth, and say, `just
such a lad was I at twenty,' though nothing could be less alike, at
the moment he was speaking, than they two. We all change with our
years. Now I was once as slender, and almost--not quite, Rosy, for
few there are that be--but almost as handsome as you yourself."

"Yes, aunty, I've heard that before," said Rose, springing up, in
order to change the discourse; "but Harry Mulford will never become
like Stephen Spike. I wish we had never known the man, dearest
aunty."

"It was all your own doings, child. He's a cousin of your most
intimate friend, and she brought him to the house; and one could n't
offend Mary Mulford, by telling her we did n't like her cousin."

Rose seemed vexed, and she kept her little foot in motion, patting
the sail that formed the carpet, as girls will pat the ground with
their feet when vexed. This gleam of displeasure was soon over,
however, and her countenance became as placid as the clear, blue sky
that formed the vault of the heavens above her head. As if to atone
for the passing rebellion of her feelings, she threw her arms around
her aunt's neck; after which she walked away, along the beach,
ruminating on her present situation, and of the best means of
extricating their party from the power of Spike.

It requires great familiarity with vessels and the seas, for one to
think, read, and pursue the customary train of reasoning on board a
ship that one has practised ashore. Rose had felt this embarrassment
during the past month, for the whole of which time she had scarcely
been in a condition to act up to her true character, suffering her
energies, and in some measure her faculties, to be drawn into the
vortex produced by the bustle, novelties, and scenes of the vessel
and the ocean. But, now she was once more on the land, diminutive
and naked as was the islet that composed her present world, and she
found leisure and solitude for reflection and decision. She was not
ignorant of the nature of a vessel of war, or of the impropriety of
unprotected females placing themselves on board of one; but
gentlemen of character, like the officers of the ship in sight,
could hardly be wanting in the feelings of their caste; and anything
was better than to return voluntarily within the power of Spike. She
determined within her own mind that voluntarily she would not. We
shall leave this young girl, slowly wandering along the beach of her
islet, musing on matters like these, while we return to the vessels
and the mariners.

A good breeze had come in over the reef from the Gulf, throwing the
sloop-of-war dead to leeward of the brigantine's anchorage. This was
the reason that the former had closed so slowly. Still the distance
between the vessels was so small, that a swift cruiser, like the
ship of war, would soon have been alongside of the wreckers, but for
the intervening islets and the intricacies of their channels. She
had made sail on the wind, however, and was evidently disposed to
come as near to the danger as her lead showed would be safe, even if
she did not venture among them.

Spike noted all these movements, and he took his measures
accordingly. The pumping and bailing had been going on since the
appearance of light, and the flour had been quite half removed from
the schooner's hold. That vessel consequently floated with
sufficient buoyancy, and no further anxiety was felt on account of
her sinking. Still, a great deal of water remained in her, the cabin
itself being nearly half full. Spike's object was to reduce this
water sufficiently to enable him to descend into the state-room
which Se¤or Montefalderon had occupied, and bring away the doubloons
that alone kept him in the vicinity of so ticklish a neighbour as
the Poughkeepsie. Escape was easy enough to one who knew the
passages of the reef and islets; more especially since the wind had
so fortunately brought the cruiser to leeward. Spike most
apprehended a movement upon him in the boats, and he had almost made
up his mind, should such an enterprise be attempted, to try his hand
in beating it off with his guns. A good deal of uncertainty on the
subject of Mulford's consenting to resist the recognised authorities
of the country, as well as some doubts of a similar nature in
reference to two or three of the best of the foremast hands, alone
left him at all in doubt as to the expediency of such a course. As
no boats were lowered from the cruiser, however, the necessity of
resorting to so desperate a measure, did not occur, and the duty of
lightening the schooner had proceeded without interruption. As soon
as the boatswain came off from the islet, he and the men with him
were directed to take the hands and lift the anchors, of which it
will be remembered the Swash had several down. Even Mulford was
shortly after set at work on the same duty; and these expert and
ready seamen soon had the brig clear of the ground. As the schooner
was anchored, and floated without assistance, the Swash rode by her.

Such was the state of things when the men turned to, after having
had their dinners. By this time, the sloop-of-war was within half a
league of the bay, her progress having been materially retarded by
the set of the current, which was directly against her. Spike saw
that a collision of some sort or other must speedily occur, and he
determined to take the boatswain with him, and descend into the
cabin of the schooner in quest of the gold. The boatswain was
summoned, and Se¤or Montefalderon repeated in this man's presence
the instructions that he thought it necessary for the adventurers to
follow, in order to secure the prize. Knowing how little locks would
avail on board a vessel, were the men disposed to rob him, that
gentleman had trusted more to secreting his treasure, than to
securing it in the more ordinary way. When the story had again been
told, Spike and his boatswain went on board the schooner, and,
undressing, they prepared to descend into the cabin. The captain
paused a single instant to take a look at the sloop-of-war, and to
examine the state of the weather. It is probable some new impression
was made on him by this inquiry, for, hailing Mulford, he ordered
him to loosen the sails, and to sheet home, and hoist the
foretopsail. In a word, to "see all ready to cast off, and make sail
on the brig at the shortest notice." With this command he
disappeared by the schooner's companion-way.

Spike and his companion found the water in the cabin very much
deeper than they had supposed. With a view to comfort, the
cabin-floor had been sunk much lower than is usual on board American
vessels, and this brought the water up nearly to the arm-pits of two
men as short as our captain and his sturdy little boatswain. The
former grumbled a good deal, when he ascertained the fact, and said
something about the mate's being better fitted to make a search in
such a place, but concluding with the remark, that "the man who
wants ticklish duty well done, must see to it himself."

The gold-hunters groped their way cautiously about the cabin for
some time, feeling for a drawer, in which they had been told they
should find the key of Se¤or Montefalderon's state-room door. In
this Spike himself finally succeeded, he being much better
acquainted with cabins and their fixtures, than the boatswain.

"Here it is, Ben," said the captain, "now for a dive among the Don's
val'ables. Should you pick up anything worth speaking of, you can
condemn it for salvage, as I mean to cast off, and quit the wrack
the moment we've made sure of the doubloons."

"And what will become of all the black flour that is lying about,
sir?" asked the boatswain with a grin.

"It may take care of itself. My agreement will be up as soon as the
doubloons are found. If the Don will come down handsomely with his
share of what will be left, I may be bought to put the kegs we have
in the brig ashore for him somewhere in Mexico; but my wish is to
get out of the neighbourhood of that bloody sloop-of-war, as soon as
possible."

"She makes but slow headway ag'in the current, sir; but a body would
think she might send in her boats."

"The boats might be glad to get back again," muttered Spike. "Ay,
here is the door unlocked, and we can now fish for the money."

Some object had rolled against the state-room door, when the vessel
was capsized, and there was a good deal of difficulty in forcing it
open. They succeeded at last, and Spike led the way by wading into
the small apartment. Here they began to feel about beneath the
water, and by a very insufficient light, in quest of the hidden
treasure. Spike and his boatswain differed as to the place which had
just been described to them, as men will differ even in the account
of events that pass directly before their eyes. While thus employed,
the report of a heavy gun came through the doors of the cabin,
penetrating to the recess in which they were thus employed.

"Ay, that's the beginning of it!" exclaimed Spike. "I wonder that
the fool has put it off so long."

"That gun was a heavy fellow, Captain Spike," returned the
boatswain; "and it sounded in my ears as if't was shotted."

"Ay, ay, I dare say you're right enough in both opinions. They put
such guns on board their sloops-of-war, now-adays, as a fellow used
to find in the lower batteries of a two-decker only in old times;
and as for shot, why Uncle Sam pays, and they think it cheaper to
fire one out of a gun, than to take the trouble of drawing it."

"I believe here's one of the bags, Captain Spike," said the
boatswain, making a dip, and coming up with one-half of the desired
treasure in his fist. "By George, I've grabbed him, sir; and the
other bag can't be far off."

"Hand that over to me," said the captain, a little authoritatively,
"and take a dive for the next."

As the boatswain was obeying this order, a second gun was heard, and
Spike thought that the noise made by the near passage of a large
shot was audible also. He called out to Ben to "bear a hand, as the
ship seems in 'arnest." But the head of the boatswain being under
water at the time, the admonition was thrown away. The fellow soon
came up, however, puffing like a porpoise that has risen to the
surface to blow.

"Hand it over to me at once," said Spike, stretching out his
unoccupied hand to receive the prize; "we have little time to lose."

"That's sooner said than done, sir," answered the boat-swain; "a box
has driven down upon the bag, and there's a tight jam. I got hold of
the neck of the bag, and pulled like a horse, but it wouldn't come
no how."

"Show me the place, and let me have a drag at it. There goes another
of his bloody guns!"

Down went Spike, and the length of time he was under water, proved
how much he was in earnest. Up he came at length, and with no better
luck than his companion. He had got hold of the bag, satisfied
himself by feeling its outside that it contained the doubloons, and
hauled with all his strength, but it would not come. The boatswain
now proposed to take a jamming hitch with a rope around the neck of
the bag, which was long enough to admit of such a fastening, and
then to apply their united force. Spike assented, and the boatswain
rummaged about for a piece of small rope to suit his purpose. At
this moment Mulford appeared at the companion-way to announce the
movements on the part of the sloop-of-war. He had been purposely
tardy, in order to give the ship as much time as possible; but he
saw by the looks of the men that a longer delay might excite
suspicion.

"Below there!" called out the mate.

"What's wanting, sir?--what's wanting, sir?" answered Spike; "let's
know at once."

"Have you heard the guns, Captain Spike?"

"Ay, ay, every grumbler of them. They've done no mischief, I trust,
Mr. Mulford?"

"None as yet, sir; though the last shot, and it was a heavy fellow,
passed just above the schooner's deck. I've the topsail sheeted home
and hoisted, and it's that which has set them at work. If I clewed
up again, I dare say they'd not fire another gun."

"Clew up nothing, sir, but see all clear for casting off and making
sail through the South Pass. What do you say, Ben, are you ready for
a drag?"

"All ready, sir," answered the boatswain, once more coming up to
breathe. "Now for it, sir; a steady pull, and a pull all together."

They did pull, but the hitch slipped, and both went down beneath the
water. In a moment they were up again, puffing a little and swearing
a great deal. Just then another gun, and a clatter above their
heads, brought them to a stand.

"What means that, Mr. Mulford?" demanded Spike, a good deal
startled.

"It means that the sloop-of-war has shot away the head of this
schooner's foremast, sir, and that the shot has chipp'd a small
piece out of the heel of our maintop-mast--that's all."

Though excessively provoked at the mate's cool manner of replying,
Spike saw that he might lose all by being too tenacious about
securing the remainder of the doubloons. Pronouncing in very
energetic terms on Uncle Sam, and all his cruisers, an anathema that
we do not care to repeat, he gave a surly order to Ben to
"knock-off," and abandoned his late design. In a minute he was on
deck and dressed.

"Cast off, lads," cried the captain, as soon as on the deck of his
own brig again, "and four of you man that boat. We have got half of
your treasure, Se¤or Wan, but have been driven from the rest of it,
as you see. There is the bag; when at leisure we'll divide it, and
give the people their share. Mr. Mulford, keep the brig in motion,
hauling up toward the South Pass, while I go ashore for the ladies.
I'll meet you just in the throat of the passage."

This said, Spike tumbled into his boat, and was pulled ashore. As
for Mulford, though he cast many an anxious glance toward the islet,
he obeyed his orders, keeping the brig standing off and on, under
easy canvas, but working her up toward the indicated passage.

Spike was met by Jack Tier on the beach of the little island.

"Muster the women at once," ordered the captain, "we have no time to
lose, for that fellow will soon be firing broad-sides, and his shot
now range half a mile beyond us."

"You'll no more move the widow and her maid, than you'll move the
island," answered Jack, laconically.

"Why should I not move them? Do they wish to stay here and starve?"

"It's little that they think of that. The sloop-of-war no sooner
begun to fire than down went Mrs. Budd on the canvas floor of the
tent, and set up just such a screaming as you may remember she tried
her hand at the night the revenue craft fired into us. Biddy lay
down alongside of her mistress, and at every gun, they just scream
as loud as they can, as if they fancied they might frighten off
Uncle Sam's men from their duty."

"Duty!--You little scamp, do you call tormenting honest traders in
this fashion the duty of any man?"

"Well, captain, I'm no ways partic'lar about a word or two. Their
`ways,' if you like that better than duty, sir."

"Where's Rose? Is she down too, screaming and squalling?"

"No, Captain Spike, no. Miss Rose is endeavouring, like a handsome
young Christian lady as she is, to pacify and mollify her aunt and
Biddy; and right down sensible talk does she give them."

"Then she at least can go aboard the brig," exclaimed Spike, with a
sudden animation, and an expression of countenance that Jack did not
at all like.

"I ray-y-ther think she'll wish to hold on to the old lady,"
observed the steward's-mate, a little emphatically.

"You be d--d," cried Spike, fiercely; "when your opinion is wanted,
I'll ask for it. If I find you've been setting that young woman's
mind ag'in me, I'll toss you overboard, as I would the offals of a
shark."

"Young women's minds, when they are only nineteen, get set ag'in
boys of fifty-six without much assistance."

"Fifty-six yourself."

"I'm fifty-three--that I'll own without making faces at it,"
returned Jack, meekly; "and, Stephen Spike, you logged fifty-six
your last birthday, or a false entry was made."

This conversation did not take place in the presence of the boat's
crew, but as the two walked together toward the tent. They were now
in the verandah, as we have called the shaded opening in front, and
actually within sound of the sweet voice of Rose, as she exhorted
her aunt, in tones a little louder than usual for her to use, to
manifest more fortitude. Under such circumstances Spike did not deem
it expedient to utter that which was uppermost in his mind, but,
turning short upon Tier, he directed a tremendous blow directly
between his eyes. Jack saw the danger and dodged, falling backward
to avoid a concussion which he knew would otherwise be fearful,
coming as it would from one of the best forecastle boxers of his
time. The full force of the blow was avoided, though Jack got enough
of it to knock him down, and to give him a pair of black eyes. Spike
did not stop to pick the assistant steward up, for another gun was
fired at that very instant, and Mrs. Budd and Biddy renewed their
screams. Instead of pausing to kick the prostrate Tier, as had just
before been his intention, the captain entered the tent.

A scene that was sufficiently absurd met the view of Spike, when he
found himself in the presence of the females. The widow had thrown
herself on the ground, and was grasping the cloth of the sail on
which the tent had been erected with both her hands, and was
screaming at the top of her voice. Biddy's imitation was not exactly
literal, for she had taken a comfortable seat at the side of her
mistress, but in the way of cries, she rather outdid her principal.

"We must be off," cried Spike, somewhat unceremoniously. "The
man-of-war is blazing away, as if she was a firin' minute-guns over
our destruction, and I can wait no longer."

"I'll not stir," answered the widow--"I can't stir--I shall be shot
if I go out. No, no, no--I'll not stir an inch."

"We'll be kilt!--we'll be kilt!" echoed Biddy, "and a wicket
murther't will be in that same man, war or no war."

The captain perceived the uselessness of remonstrance at such a
moment, and perhaps he was secretly rejoiced thereat; but it is
certain that he whipped Rose up under his arm, and walked away with
her, as if she had been a child of two or three years of age. Rose
did not scream, but she struggled and protested vehemently. It was
in vain. Already the captain had carried her half the distance
between the tent and the boat, in the last of which, a minute more
would have deposited his victim, when a severe blow on the back of
his head caused Spike to stumble, and he permitted Rose to escape
from his grasp, in the effort to save himself from a fall. Turning
fiercely toward his assailant, whom he suspected to be one of his
boat's crew, he saw Tier standing within a few yards, levelling a
pistol at him.

"Advance a step, and you're a dead man, villain!" screamed Jack, his
voice almost cracked with rage, and the effort he made to menace.

Spike muttered an oath too revolting for our pages; but it was such
a curse as none but an old salt could give vent to, and that in the
bitterness of his fiercest wrath. At that critical moment, while
Rose was swelling with indignation and wounded maiden pride, almost
within reach of his arms, looking more lovely than ever, as the
flush of anger deepened the colour in her cheeks, a fresh and deep
report from one of the guns of the sloop-of-war drew all eyes in her
direction. The belching of that gun seemed to be of double the power
of those which had preceded it, and jets of water, that were twenty
feet in height, marked the course of the formidable missile that was
projected from the piece. The ship had, indeed, discharged one of
those monster-cannons that bear the name of a distinguished French
engineer, but which should more properly be called by the name of
the ingenious officer who is at the head of our own ordnance, as
they came originally from his inventive faculties, though somewhat
improved by their European adopter. Spike suspected the truth, for
he had heard of these "Pazans," as he called them, and he watched
the booming, leaping progress of the eight-inch shell that this gun
threw, with the apprehension that unknown danger is apt to excite.
As jet succeeded jet, each rising nearer and nearer to his brig, the
interval of time between them seeming fearfully to diminish, he
muttered oath upon oath. The last leap that the shell made on the
water was at about a quarter of a mile's distance of the islet on
which his people had deposited at least a hundred and fifty barrels
of his spurious flour:-thence it flew, as it might be without an
effort, with a grand and stately bound into the very centre of the
barrels, exploding at the moment it struck. All saw the scattering
of flour, which was instantly succeeded by the heavy though slightly
straggling explosion of all the powder on the island. A hundred kegs
were lighted, as it might be, in a common flash, and a cloud of
white smoke poured out and concealed the whole islet, and all near
it.

Rose stood confounded, nor was Jack Tier in a much better state of
mind, though he still kept the pistol levelled, and menaced Spike.
But the last was no longer dangerous to any there. He recollected
that piles of the barrels encumbered the decks of his vessel, and he
rushed to the boat, nearly frantic with haste, ordering the men to
pull for their lives. In less than five minutes he was alongside,
and on the deck of the Swash--his first order being to--"Tumble
every barrel of this bloody powder into the sea, men. Over with it,
Mr. Mulford, clear away the midship ports, and launch as much as you
can through them."

Remonstrance on the part of Se¤or Montefalderon would have been
useless, had he been disposed to make it; but, sooth to say, he was
as ready to get rid of the powder as any there, after the specimen
he had just witnessed of the power of a Paixhan gun.

Thus it is ever with men. Had two or three of those shells been
first thrown without effect, as might very well have happened under
the circumstances, none there would have cared for the risk they
were running; but the chance explosion which had occurred, presented
so vivid a picture of the danger, dormant and remote as it really
was, as to throw the entire crew of the Swash into a frenzy of
exertion.

Nor was the vessel at all free from danger. On the contrary, she ran
very serious risk of being destroyed, and in some degree, in the
very manner apprehended. Perceiving that Spike was luffing up
through one of the passages nearest the reef, which would carry him
clear of the group, a long distance to windward of the point where
he could only effect the same object, the commander of the
sloop-of-war opened his fire in good earnest, hoping to shoot away
something material on board the Swash, before she could get beyond
the reach of his shot. The courses steered by the two vessels, just
at that moment, favoured such an attempt, though they made it
necessarily very short-lived. While the Swash was near the wind, the
sloop-of-war was obliged to run off to avoid islets ahead of her, a
circumstance which, while it brought the brig square with the ship's
broadside, compelled the latter to steer on a diverging line to the
course of her chase. It was in consequence of these facts, that the
sloop-of-war now opened in earnest, and was soon canopied in the
smoke of her own fire.

Great and important changes, as has been already mentioned, have
been made in the armaments of all the smaller cruisers within the
last few years. Half a generation since, a ship of the rate--we do
not say of the size--of the vessel which was in chase of Spike and
his craft, would not have had it in her power to molest an enemy at
the distance these two vessels were now apart. But recent
improvements have made ships of this nominal force formidable at
nearly a league's distance; more especially by means of their
Paixhans and their shells.

For some little time the range carried the shot directly over the
islet of the tent; Jack Tier and Rose, both of whom were watching
all that passed with intense interest, standing in the open air the
whole time, seemingly with no concern for themselves, so absorbed
was each, notwithstanding all that had passed, in the safety of the
brig. As for Rose, she thought only of Harry Mulford, and of the
danger he was in by those fearful explosions of the shells. Her
quick intellect comprehended the peculiar nature of the risk that
was incurred by having the flour-barrels on deck, and she could not
but see the manner in which Spike and his men were tumbling them
into the water, as the quickest manner of getting rid of them. After
what had just passed between Jack Tier and his commander, it might
not be so easy to account for his manifest, nay, intense interest in
the escape of the Swash. This was apparent by his troubled
countenance, by his exclamations, and occasionally by his openly
expressed wishes for her safety. Perhaps it was no more than the
interest the seaman is so apt to feel in the craft in which he has
so long sailed, and which to him has been a home, and of which
Mulford exhibited so much, in his struggles between feeling and
conscience--between a true and a false duty.

As for Spike and his people, we have already mentioned their efforts
to get rid of the powder. Shell after shell exploded, though none
very near the brig, the ship working her guns as if in action. At
length the officers of the sloop-of-war detected a source of error
in their aim, that is of very common occurrence in sea-gunnery.
Their shot had been thrown to ricochet, quartering a low, but very
regular succession of little waves. Each shot striking the water at
an acute angle to its agitated surface, was deflected from a
straight line, and described a regular curve toward the end of its
career; or, it might be truer to say, an irregular curvature, for
the deflection increased as the momentum of the missile diminished.

No sooner did the commanding officer of the sloop-of-war discover
this fact, and it was easy to trace the course of the shots by the
jets of water they cast into the air, and to see as well as to hear
the explosions of the shells, than he ordered the guns pointed more
to windward, as a means of counteracting the departure from the
straight lines. This expedient succeeded in part, the solid shot
falling much nearer to the brig the moment the practice was resorted
to. No shell was fired for some little time after the new order was
issued, and Spike and his people began to hope these terrific
missiles had ceased their annoyance. The men cheered, finding their
voices for the first time since the danger had seemed so imminent,
and Spike was heard animating them to their duty. As for Mulford, he
was on the coach-house deck, working the brig, the captain having
confided to him that delicate duty, the highest proof he could
furnish of confidence in his seamanship. The handsome young mate had
just made a half-board, in the neatest manner, shoving the brig by
its means through a most difficult part of the passage, and had got
her handsomely filled again on the same tack, looking right out into
open water, by a channel through which she could now stand on a very
easy bowline. Everything seemed propitious, and the sloop-of-war's
solid shot began to drop into the water, a hundred yards short of
the brig. In this state of things one of the Paixhans belched forth
its angry flame and sullen roar again. There was no mistaking the
gun. Then came its mass of iron, a globe that would have weighed
just sixty-eight pounds, had not sufficient metal been left out of
its interior to leave a cavity to contain a single pound of powder.
Its course, as usual, was to be marked by its path along the sea, as
it bounded, half a mile at a time, from wave to wave. Spike saw by
its undeviating course that this shell was booming terrifically
toward his brig, and a cry to "look out for the shell," caused the
work to be suspended. That shell struck the water for the last time,
within two hundred yards of the brig, rose dark and menacing in its
furious leap, but exploded at the next instant. The fragments of the
iron were scattered on each side, and ahead. Of the last, three or
four fell into the water so near the vessel as to cast their spray
on her decks.

"Overboard with the rest of the powder!" shouted Spike. "Keep the
brig off a little, Mr. Mulford--keep her off, sir; you luff too
much, sir."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate. "Keep her off, it is."

"There comes the other shell!" cried Ben, but the men did not quit
their toil to gaze this time. Each seaman worked as if life and
death depended on his single exertions. Spike alone watched the
course of the missile. On it came, booming and hurtling through the
air, tossing high the jets, at each leap it made from the surface,
striking the water for its last bound, seemingly in a line with the
shell that had just preceded it. From that spot it made its final
leap. Every hand in the brig was stayed and every eye was raised as
the rushing tempest was heard advancing. The mass went muttering
directly between the masts of the Swash. It had scarcely seemed to
go by when the fierce flash of fire and the sharp explosion
followed. Happily for those in the brig, the projectile force given
by the gun carried the fragments from them, as in the other instance
it had brought them forward; else would few have escaped mutilation,
or death, among their crew.

The flashing of fire so near the barrels of powder that still
remained on their deck, caused the frantic efforts to be renewed,
and barrel after barrel was tumbled overboard, amid the shouts that
were now raised to animate the people to their duty.

"Luff, Mr. Mulford--luff you may, sir," cried Spike. No answer was
given.

"D'ye hear there, Mr. Mulford?--it is luff you may, sir."

"Mr. Mulford is not aft, sir," called out the man at the helm--"but
luff it is, sir."

"Mr. Mulford not aft! Where's the mate, man? Tell him he is wanted."

No Mulford was to be found! A call passed round the decks, was sent
below, and echoed through the entire brig, but no sign or tidings
could be had of the handsome mate. At that exciting moment the
sloop-of-war seemed to cease her firing, and appeared to be securing
her guns.