Thou art the same, eternal sea!
The earth has many shapes and forms,
Of hill and valley, flower and tree;
Fields that the fervid noontide warms,
Or winter's rugged grasp deforms,
Or bright with autumn's golden store;
Thou coverest up thy face with storms,
Or smilest serene,--but still thy roar
And dashing foam go up to vex the sea-beat shore:
--Lunt.
We shall now advance the time eight-and-forty hours. The baffling
winds and calms that succeeded the tornado had gone, and the trades
blew in their stead. Both vessels had disappeared, the brig leading,
doubling the western extremity of the reef, and going off before
both wind and current, with flowing sheets, fully three hours before
the sloop-of-war could beat up against the latter, to a point that
enabled her to do the same thing. By that time, the Swash was
five-and-twenty miles to the eastward, and consequently but just
discernible in her loftiest sails, from the ship's royal yards.
Still, the latter continued the chase; and that evening both vessels
were beating down along the southern margin of the Florida Reef,
against the trades, but favoured by a three or four knot current,
the brig out of sight to windward. Our narrative leads us to lose
sight of both these vessels, for a time, in order to return to the
islets of the Gulf. Eight-and-forty hours had made some changes in
and around the haven of the Dry Tortugas. The tent still stood, and
a small fire that was boiling its pot and its kettle, at no great
distance from it, proved that the tent was still inhabited. The
schooner also rode at her anchors, very much as she had been
abandoned by Spike. The bag of doubloons, however, had been found,
and there it lay, tied but totally unguarded, in the canvas verandah
of Rose Budd's habitation. Jack Tier passed and repassed it with
apparent indifference, as he went to and fro, between his pantry and
kitchen, busy as a bee in preparing his noontide meal for the day.
This man seemed to have the islet all to himself, however, no one
else being visible on any part of it. He sang his song, in a
cracked, contre alto voice, and appeared to be happy in his
solitude. Occasionally he talked to himself aloud, most probably
because he had no one else to speak to. We shall record one of his
recitatives, which came in between the strains of a very
inharmonious air, the words of which treated of the seas, while the
steward's assistant was stirring an exceedingly savoury mess that he
had concocted of the ingredients to be found in the united larders
of the Swash and the Mexican schooner.
"Stephen Spike is a capital willian!" exclaimed Jack, smelling at a
ladle filled with his soup--"a capital willian, I call him. To
think, at his time of life, of such a handsome and pleasant young
thing as this Rose Budd; and then to try to get her by underhand
means, and by making a fool of her silly old aunt. It 's wonderful
what fools some old aunts be! Quite wonderful! If I was as great a
simpleton as this Mrs. Budd, I'd never cross my threshhold. Yes,
Stephen Spike is a prodigious willian, as his best friend must own!
Well, I gave him a thump on the head that he'll not forget this
v'y'ge. To think of carryin' off that pretty Rose Budd in his very
arms, in so indecent a manner! Yet, the man has his good p'ints, if
a body could only forget his bad ones. He's a first-rate seaman. How
he worked the brig till he doubled the reef, a'ter she got into open
water; and how he made her walk off afore the wind, with stun'sails
alow and aloft, as soon as ever he could make 'em draw! My life for
it, he 'll tire the legs of Uncle Sam's man, afore he can fetch up
with him. For running away, when hard chased, Stephen Spike has n't
his equal on 'arth. But, he's a great willian--a prodigious willian!
I cannot say I actually wish him hanged; but I would rather have him
hanged than see him get pretty Rose in his power. What has he to do
with girls of nineteen? If the rascal is one year old, he's
fifty-six. I hope the sloop-of-war will find her match, and I think
she will. The Molly's a great traveller, and not to be outdone
easily. 'T would be a thousand pities so lovely a craft should be
cut off in the flower of her days, as it might be, and I do hope
she'll lead that bloody sloop on some sunken rock.
"Well, there's the other bag of doubloons. It seems Stephen could
not get it. That's odd, too, for he's great at grabbin' gold. The
man bears his age well; but he's a willian! I wonder whether he or
Mulford made that half-board in the narrow channel. It was well
done, and Stephen is a perfect sailor; but he says Mulford is the
same. Nice young man, that Mulford; just fit for Rose, and Rose for
him. Pity to part them. Can find no great fault with him, except
that he has too much conscience. There's such a thing as having too
much, as well as too little conscience. Mulford has too much, and
Spike has too little. For him to think of carryin' off a gal of
nineteen! I say he's fifty-six, if he's a day. How fond he used to
be of this very soup! If I've seen him eat a quart of it, I've seen
him eat a puncheon full of it, in my time. What an appetite the man
has when he's had a hard day's duty on 't! There 's a great deal to
admire, and a great deal to like in Stephen Spike, but he's a
reg'lar willian. I dare say he fancies himself a smart, jaunty youth
ag'in, as I can remember him; a lad of twenty, which was about his
years when I first saw him, by the sign that I was very little
turned of fifteen myself. Spike was comely then, though I
acknowledge he's a willian. I can see him now, with his deep blue
roundabout, his bell-mouthed trowsers, both of fine cloth--too fine
for such a willian--but fine it was, and much did it become him."
Here Jack made a long pause, during which, though he may have
thought much, he said nothing. Nevertheless, he was n't idle the
while. On the contrary, he passed no less than three several times
from the fire to the tent, and returned. Each time, in going and
coming, he looked intently at the bag of doubloons, though he did
not stop at it or touch it. Some associations connected with Spike's
fruitless attempts to obtain it must have formed its principal
interest with this singular being, as he muttered his captain's name
each time in passing, though he said no more audibly. The concerns
of the dinner carried him back and forth; and in his last visit to
the tent, he began to set a small table--one that had been brought
for the convenience of Mrs. Budd and her niece, from the brig, and
which of course still remained on the islet. It was while thus
occupied, that Jack Tier recommenced his soliloquy.
"I hope that money may do some worthy fellow good yet. It's Mexican
gold, and that's inemy's gold, and might be condemned by law, I do
suppose. Stephen had a hankerin' a'ter it, but he did not get it. It
come easy enough to the next man that tried. That Spike 's a
willian, and the gold was too good for him. He has no conscience at
all to think of a gal of nineteen! And one fit for his betters, in
the bargain. The time has been when Stephen Spike might have
pretended to Rose Budd's equal. That much I'll ever maintain, but
that time's gone; and, what is more, it will never come again. I
should like Mulford better if he had a little less conscience.
Conscience may do for Uncle Sam's ships, but it is sometimes in the
way aboard a trading craft. What can a fellow do with a conscience
when dollars is to be smuggled off, or tobacco smuggled ashore? I do
suppose I've about as much conscience as it is useful to have, and
I've got ashore in my day twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff,
of one sort or another, if I've got ashore the valie of ten dollars.
But Spike carries on business on too large a scale, and many's the
time I've told him so. I could have forgiven him anything but this
attempt on Rose Budd; and he's altogether too old for that, to say
nothing of other people's rights. He's an up-and-down willian, and a
body can make no more, nor any less of him. That soup must be near
done, and I'll hoist the signal for grub."
This signal was a blue-peter of which one had been brought ashore to
signal the brig; and with which Jack now signalled the schooner. If
the reader will turn his eyes toward the last named vessel, he will
find the guests whom Tier expected to surround his table. Rose, her
aunt, and Biddy were all seated, under an awning made by a sail, on
the deck of the schooner, which now floated so buoyantly as to show
that she had materially lightened since last seen. Such indeed was
the fact, and he who had been the instrument of producing this
change, appeared on deck in the person of Mulford, as soon as he was
told that the blue-peter of Jack Tier was flying.
The boat of the light-house, that in which Spike had landed in quest
of Rose, was lying alongside of the schooner, and sufficiently
explained the manner in which the mate had left the brig. This boat,
in fact, had been fastened astern, in the hurry of getting from
under the sloop-of-war's fire, and Mulford had taken the opportunity
of the consternation and frantic efforts produced by the explosion
of the last shell thrown, to descend from his station on the
coach-house into this boat, to cut the painter, and to let the Swash
glide away from him. This the vessel had done with great rapidity,
leaving him unseen under the cover of her stern. As soon as in the
boat, the mate had seized an oar, and sculled to an islet that was
within fifty yards, concealing the boat behind a low hummock that
formed a tiny bay. All this was done so rapidly, that united to the
confusion on board the Swash, no one discovered the mate or the
boat. Had he been seen, however, it is very little probable that
Spike would have lost a moment of time, in the attempt to recover
either. But he was not seen, and it was the general opinion on board
the Swash, for quite an hour, that her handsome mate had been
knocked overboard and killed, by a fragment of the shell that had
seemed to explode almost in the ears of her people. When the reef
was doubled, however, and Spike made his preparations for meeting
the rough water, he hove to, and ordered his own yawl, which was
also towing astern, to be hauled up alongside, in order to be
hoisted in. Then, indeed, some glimmerings of the truth were shed on
the crew, who missed the light-house boat. Though many contended
that its painter must also have been cut by a fragment of the shell,
and that the mate had died loyal to roguery and treason. Mulford was
much liked by the crew, and he was highly valued by Spike, on
account of his seamanship and integrity, this latter being a quality
that is just as necessary for one of the captain's character to meet
with in those he trusts as to any other man. But Spike thought
differently of the cause of Mulford's disappearance, from his crew.
He ascribed it altogether to love for Rose, when, in truth, it ought
in justice to have been quite as much imputed to a determination to
sail no longer with a man who was clearly guilty of treason. Of
smuggling, Mulford had long suspected Spike, though he had no direct
proof of the fact; but now he could not doubt that he was not only
engaged in supplying the enemy with the munitions of war, but was
actually bargaining to sell his brig for a hostile cruiser, and
possibly to transfer himself and crew along with her.
It is scarcely necessary to speak of the welcome Mulford received
when he reached the islet of the tent. He and Rose had a long
private conference, the result of which was to let the handsome mate
into the secret of his pretty companion's true feelings toward
himself. She had received him with tears, and a betrayal of emotion
that gave him every encouragement, and now she did not deny her
preference. In that interview the young people plighted to each
other their troth. Rose never doubted of obtaining her aunt's
consent in due time, all her prejudices being in favour of the sea
and sailors; and should she not, she would soon be her own mistress,
and at liberty to dispose of herself and her pretty little fortune
as she might choose. But a cypher as she was, in all questions of
real moment, Mrs. Budd was not a person likely to throw any real
obstacle in the way of the young people's wishes; the true grounds
of whose present apprehensions were all to be referred to Spike, his
intentions, and his well-known perseverance. Mulford was convinced
that the brig would be back in quest of the remaining doubloons, as
soon as she could get clear of the sloop-of-war, though he was not
altogether without a hope that the latter, when she found it
impossible to overhaul her chase, might also return in order to
ascertain what discoveries could be made in and about the schooner.
The explosion of the powder, on the islet, must have put the
man-of-war's men in possession of the secret of the real quality of
the flour that had composed her cargo, and it doubtless had awakened
all their distrust on the subject of the Swash's real business in
the Gulf. Under all the circumstances, therefore, it did appear
quite as probable that one of the parties should reappear at the
scene of their recent interview as the other.
Bearing all these things in mind, Mulford had lost no time in
completing his own arrangements. He felt that he had some atonement
to make to the country, for the part he had seemingly taken in the
late events, and it occurred to him, could he put the schooner in a
state to be moved, then place her in the hands of the authorities,
his own peace would be made, and his character cleared. Rose no
sooner understood his plans and motives, than she entered into them
with all the ardour and self-devotion of her sex; for the single
hour of confidential and frank communication which had just passed,
doubled the interest she felt in Mulford and in all that belonged to
him. Jack Tier was useful on board a vessel, though his want of
stature and force rendered him less so than was common with
sea-faring men. His proper sphere certainly had been the cabins,
where his usefulness was beyond all cavil; but he was now very
serviceable to Mulford on the deck of the schooner. The first two
days, Mrs. Budd had been left on the islet, to look to the concerns
of the kitchen, while Mulford, accompanied by Rose, Biddy and Jack
Tier, had gone off to the schooner, and set her pumps in motion
again. It was little that Rose could do, or indeed attempt to do, at
this toil, but the pumps being small and easily worked, Biddy and
Jack were of great service. By the end of the second day the pumps
sucked; the cargo that remained in the schooner, as well as the form
of her bottom, contributing greatly to lessen the quantity of the
water that was to be got out of her.
Then it was that the doubloons fell into Mulford's hands, along with
everything else that remained below decks. It was perhaps fortunate
that the vessel was thoroughly purified by her immersion, and the
articles that were brought on deck to be dried were found in a
condition to give no great offence to those who removed them. By
leaving the hatches off, and the cabin doors open, the warm winds of
the trades effectually dried the interior of the schooner in the
course of a single night; and when Mulford repaired on board of her,
on the morning of the third day, he found her in a condition to be
fitted for his purposes. On this occasion Mrs. Budd had expressed a
wish to go off to look at her future accommodations, and Jack was
left on the islet to cook the dinner, which will explain the actual
state of things as described in the opening of this chapter.
As those who toil usually have a relish for their food, the
appearance of the blue-peter was far from being unwelcome to those
on board of the schooner. They got into the boat, and were sculled
ashore by Mulford, who, seaman-like, used only one hand in
performing this service. In a very few minutes they were all seated
at the little table, which was brought out into the tent-verandah
for the enjoyment of the breeze.
"So far, well," said Mulford, after his appetite was mainly
appeased; Rose picking crumbs, and affecting to eat, merely to have
the air of keeping him company; one of the minor proofs of the
little attentions that spring from the affections. "So far, well.
The sails are bent, and though they might be never and better, they
can be made to answer. It was fortunate to find anything like a
second suit on board a Mexican craft of that size at all. As it is,
we have foresail, mainsail, and jib, and with that canvas I think we
might beat the schooner down to Key West in the course of a day and
a night. If I dared to venture outside of the reef, it might be done
sooner even, for they tell me there is a four-knot current sometimes
in that track; but I do not like to venture outside, so
short-handed. The current inside must serve our turn, and we shall
get smooth water by keeping under the lee of the rocks. I only hope
we shall not get into an eddy as we go further from the end of the
reef, and into the bight of the coast."
"Is there danger of that?" demanded Rose, whose quick intellect had
taught her many of these things, since her acquaintance with
vessels.
"There may be, looking at the formation of the reef and islands,
though I know nothing of the fact by actual observation. This is my
first visit in this quarter."
"Eddies are serious matters," put in Mrs. Budd, "and my poor husband
could not abide them. Tides are good things; but eddies are very
disagreeable."
"Well, aunty, I should think eddies might sometimes be as welcome as
tides. It must depend, however, very much on the way one wishes to
go."
"Rose, you surprise me! All that you have read, and all that you
have heard, must have shown you the difference. Do they not say `a
man is floating with the tide,' when things are prosperous with
him--and don't ships drop down with the tide, and beat the wind with
the tide? And don't vessels sometimes `tide it up to town,' as it is
called, and is n't it thought an advantage to have the tide with
you?"
"All very true, aunty; but I do not see how that makes eddies any
the worse."
"Because eddies are the opposite of tides, child. When the tide goes
one way, the eddy goes another--is n't it so, Harry Mulford? You
never heard of one's floating in an eddy."
"That's what we mean by an eddy, Mrs. Budd," answered the handsome
mate, delighted to hear Rose's aunt call him by an appellation so
kind and familiar,--a thing she had never done previously to the
intercourse which had been the consequence of their present
situation. "Though I agree with Rose in thinking an eddy may be a
good or a bad thing, and very much like a tide, as one wishes to
steer."
"You amaze me, both of you! Tides are always spoken of favourably,
but eddies never. If a ship gets ashore, the tide can float her off;
that I've heard a thousand times. Then, what do the newspapers say
of President--, and Governor--, and Congressman--? Why, that they
all `float in the tide of public opinion,' and that must mean
something particularly good, as they are always in office. No, no,
Harry; I'll acknowledge that you do know something about ships; a
good deal, considering how young you are; but you have something to
learn about eddies. Never trust one as long as you live."
Mulford was silent, and Rose took the occasion to change the
discourse.
"I hope we shall soon be able to quit this place," she said; "for I
confess to some dread of Captain Spike's return."
"Captain Stephen Spike has greatly disappointed me," observed the
aunt, gravely. "I do not know that I was ever before deceived in
judging a person. I could have sworn he was an honest, frank,
well-meaning sailor--a character, of all others, that I love; but it
has turned out otherwise."
"He's a willian!" mutttered Jack Tier.
Mulford smiled; at which speech we must leave to conjecture; but he
answered Rose, as he ever did, promptly and with pleasure.
"The schooner is ready, and this must be our last meal ashore," he
said. "Our outfit will be no great matter; but if it will carry us
down to Key West, I shall ask no more of it. As for the return of
the Swash, I look upon it as certain. She could easily get clear of
the sloop-of-war, with the start she had, and Spike is a man that
never yet abandoned a doubloon, when he knew where one was to be
found."
"Stephen Spike is like all his fellow-creatures," put in Jack Tier,
pointedly. "He has his faults, and he has his virtues."
"Virtue is a term I should never think of applying to such a man,"
returned Mulford, a little surprised at the fellow's earnestness.
"The word is a big one, and belongs to quite another class of
persons." Jack muttered a few syllables that were unintelligible,
when again the conversation changed.
Rose now inquired of Mulford as to their prospects of getting to Key
West. He told her that the distance was about sixty miles; their
route lying along the north or inner side of the Florida Reef. The
whole distance was to be made against the trade-wind, which was then
blowing about an eight-knot breeze, though, bating eddies, they
might expect to be favoured with the current, which was less strong
inside than outside of the reef. As for handling the schooner,
Mulford saw no great difficulty in that. She was not large, and was
both lightly sparred and lightly rigged. All her top-hamper had been
taken down by Spike, and nothing remained but the plainest and most
readily-managed gear. A fore-and-aft vessel, sailing close by the
wind, is not difficult to steer; will almost steer herself, indeed,
in smooth water. Jack Tier could take his trick at the helm, in any
weather, even in running before the wind, the time when it is most
difficult to guide a craft, and Rose might be made to understand the
use of the tiller, and taught to govern the motions of a vessel so
small and so simply rigged, when on a wind and in smooth water. On
the score of managing the schooner, therefore, Mulford thought there
would be little cause for apprehension. Should the weather continue
settled, he had little doubt of safely landing the whole party at
Key West, in the course of the next four-and-twenty hours. Short
sail he should be obliged to carry, as well on account of the
greater facility of managing it, as on account of the circumstance
that the schooner was now in light ballast trim, and would not bear
much canvas. He thought that the sooner they left the islets the
better, as it could not be long ere the brig would be seen hovering
around the spot. All these matters were discussed as the party still
sat at table; and when they left it, which was a few minutes later,
it was to remove the effects they intended to carry away to the
boat. This was soon done, both Jack Tier and Biddy proving very
serviceable, while Rose tripped backward and forward, with a step
elastic as a gazelle's, carrying light burdens. In half an hour the
boat was ready. "Here lies the bag of doubloons still," said
Mulford, smiling. "Is it to be left, or shall we give it up to the
admiralty court at Key West, and put in a claim for salvage?"
"Better leave it for Spike," said Jack unexpectedly. "Should he come
back, and find the doubloons, he may be satisfied, and not look for
the schooner. On the other hand, when the vessel is missing, he will
think that the money is in her. Better leave it for old Stephen."
"I do not agree with you, Tier," said Rose, though she looked as
amicably at the steward's assistant, as she thus opposed his
opinion, as if anxious to persuade rather than coerce. "I do not
quite agree with you. This money belongs to the Spanish merchant;
and, as we take away with us his vessel, to give it up to the
authorities at Key West, I do not think we have a right to put his
gold on the shore and abandon it."
This disposed of the question. Mulford took the bag, and carried it
to the boat, without waiting to ascertain if Jack had any objection;
while the whole party followed. In a few minutes everybody and
everything in the boat were transferred to the deck of the schooner.
As for the tent, the old sails of which it was made, the furniture
it contained, and such articles of provisions as were not wanted,
they were left on the islet, without regret. The schooner had
several casks of fresh water, which were found in her hold, and she
had also a cask or two of salted meats, besides several articles of
food more delicate, that had been provided by Se¤or Montefalderon
for his own use, and which had not been damaged by the water. A keg
of Boston crackers were among these eatables, quite half of which
were still in a state to be eaten. They were Biddy's delight; and it
was seldom that she could be seen when not nibbling at one of them.
The bread of the crew was hopelessly damaged. But Jack had made an
ample provision of bread when sent ashore, and there was still a
hundred barrels of the flour in the schooner's hold. One of these
had been hoisted on deck by Mulford, and opened. The injured flour
was easily removed, leaving a considerable quantity fit for the uses
of the kitchen. As for the keg of gunpowder, it was incontinently
committed to the deep.
Thus provided for, Mulford decided that the time had arrived when he
ought to quit his anchorage. He had been employed most of that
morning in getting the schooner's anchor, a work of great toil to
him, though everybody had assisted. He had succeeded, and the vessel
now rode by a kedge, that he could easily weigh by means of a deck
tackle. It remained now, therefore, to lift this kedge and to stand
out of the bay of the islets. No sooner was the boat secured astern,
and its freight disposed of, than the mate began to make sail. In
order to hoist the mainsail well up, he was obliged to carry the
halyards to the windlass. Thus aided, he succeeded without much
difficulty. He and Jack Tier and Biddy got the jib hoisted by hand;
and as for the fore-sail, that would almost set itself. Of course,
it was not touched until the kedge was aweigh. Mulford found little
difficulty in lifting the last, and he soon had the satisfaction of
finding his craft clear of the ground. As Jack Tier was every way
competent to take charge of the forecastle, Mulford now sprang aft,
and took his own station at the helm; Rose acting as his pretty
assistant on the quarter-deck.
There is little mystery in getting a fore-and-aft vessel under way.
Her sails fill almost as a matter of course, and motion follows as a
necessary law. Thus did it prove with the Mexican schooner, which
turned out to be a fast-sailing and an easily-worked craft. She was,
indeed, an American bottom, as it is termed, having been originally
built for the Chesapeake; and, though not absolutely what is
understood by a Baltimore clipper, so nearly of that mould and
nature as to possess some of the more essential qualities. As
usually happens, however, when a foreigner gets hold of an American
schooner, the Mexicans had shortened her masts and lessened her
canvas. This circumstance was rather an advantage to Mulford, who
would probably have had more to attend to than he wished under the
original rig of the craft.
Everybody, even to the fastidious Mrs. Budd, was delighted with the
easy and swift movement of the schooner. Mulford, now he had got her
under canvas, handled her without any difficulty, letting her stand
toward the channel through which he intended to pass, with her
sheets just taken in, though compelled to keep a little off, in
order to enter between the islets. No difficulty occurred, however,
and in less than ten minutes the vessel was clear of the channels,
and in open water. The sheets were now flattened in, and the
schooner brought close by the wind. A trial of the vessel on this
mode of sailing was no sooner made, than Mulford was induced to
regret he had taken so many precautions against any increasing power
of the wind. To meet emergencies, and under the notion he should
have his craft more under command, the young man had reefed his
mainsail, and taken the bonnets off of the foresail and jib. As the
schooner stood up better than he had anticipated, the mate felt as
all seamen are so apt to feel, when they see that their vessels
might be made to perform more than is actually got out of them. As
the breeze was fresh, however, he determined not to let out the
reef; and the labour of lacing on the bonnets again was too great to
be thought of just at that moment.
We all find relief on getting in motion, when pressed by
circumstances. Mulford had been in great apprehension of the
re-appearance of the Swash all that day; for it was about the time
when Spike would be apt to return, in the event of his escaping from
the sloop-of-war, and he dreaded Rose's again falling into the hands
of a man so desperate. Nor is it imputing more than a very natural
care to the young man, to say that he had some misgivings concerning
himself. Spike, by this time, must be convinced that his business in
the Gulf was known; and one who had openly thrown off his service,
as his mate had done, would unquestionably be regarded as a traitor
to his interests, whatever might be the relation in which he would
stand to the laws of the country. It was probable such an alleged
offender would not be allowed to appear before the tribunals of the
land, to justify himself and to accuse the truly guilty, if it were
in the power of the last to prevent it. Great, therefore, was the
satisfaction of our handsome young mate when he found himself again
fairly in motion, with a craft under him, that glided ahead in a way
to prove that she might give even the Swash some trouble to catch
her, in the event of a trial of speed.
Everybody entered into the feelings of Mulford, as the schooner
passed gallantly out from between the islets, and entered the open
water. Fathom by fathom did her wake rapidly increase, until it
could no longer be traced back as far as the sandy beaches that had
just been left. In a quarter of an hour more, the vessel had drawn
so far from the land, that some of the smaller and lowest of the
islets were getting to be indistinct. At that instant everybody had
come aft, the females taking their seats on the trunk, which, in
this vessel as in the Swash herself, gave space and height to the
cabin.
"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Budd, who found the freshness of the sea air
invigorating, as well as their speed exciting, "this is what I call
maritime, Rosy, dear. This is what is meant by the Maritime States,
about which we read so much, and which are commonly thought to be so
important. We are now in a Maritime State, and I feel perfectly
happy after all our dangers and adventures!"
"Yes, aunty, and I am delighted that you are happy," answered Rose,
with frank affection. "We are now rid of that infamous Spike, and
may hope never to see his face more."
"Stephen Spike has his good p'ints as well as another," said Jack
Tier, abruptly.
"I know that he is an old shipmate of yours, Tier, and that you
cannot forget how he once stood connected with you, and am sorry I
have said so much against him," answered Rose, expressing her
concern even more by her looks and tones, than by her words.
Jack was mollified by this, and he let his feeling be seen, though
he said no more than to mutter, "He's a willian!" words that had
frequently issued from his lips within the last day or two.
"Stephen Spike is a capital seaman, and that is something in any
man," observed the relict of Captain Budd. "He learned his trade
from one who was every way qualified to teach him, and it's no
wonder he should be expert. Do you expect, Mr. Mulford, to beat the
wind the whole distance to Key West?"
It was not possible for any one to look more grave than the mate did
habitually, while the widow was floundering through her sea-terms.
Rose had taught him that respect for her aunt was to be one of the
conditions of her own regard, though Rose had never opened her lips
to him on the subject.
"Yes, ma'am," answered the mate, respectfully, "we are in the
trades, and shall have to turn to windward, every inch of the way to
Key West."
"Of what lock is this place the key, Rosy?" asked the aunt,
innocently enough. "I know that forts and towns are sometimes called
keys, but they always have locks of some sort or other. Now,
Gibraltar is the key of the Mediterranean, as your uncle has told me
fifty times; and I have been there, and can understand why it should
be,--but I do not know of what lock this West is the key."
"It is not that sort of key which is meant, aunty, at all--but quite
a different thing. The key meant is an island."
"And why should any one be so silly as to call an island a key?"
"The place where vessels unload is sometimes called a key," answered
Mulford;--"the French calling it a quai, and the Dutch kaye. I
suppose our English word is derived from these. Now, a low, sandy
island, looking somewhat like keys, or wharves, seamen have given
them this name. Key West is merely a low island."
"Then there is no lock to it, or anything to be unfastened," said
the widow, in her most simple manner.
"It may turn out to be the key to the Gulf of Mexico, one of these
days, ma'am. Uncle Sam is surveying the reef, and intends to do
something here, I believe. When Uncle Sam is really in earnest, he
is capable of performing great things."
Mrs. Budd was satisfied with this explanation, though she told Biddy
that evening, that "locks and keys go together, and that the person
who christened the island to which they were going, must have been
very weak in his upper story." But these reflections on the
intellects of her fellow-creatures were by no means uncommon with
the worthy relict; and we cannot say that her remarks made any
particular impression on her Irish maid.
In the mean time, the Mexican schooner behaved quite to Mulford's
satisfaction. He thought her a little tender in the squalls, of
which they had several that afternoon; but he remarked to Rose, who
expressed her uneasiness at the manner in which the vessel lay over
in one of them, that "she comes down quite easy to her bearings, but
it is hard forcing her beyond them. The vessel needs more cargo to
ballast her, though, on the whole, I find her as stiff as one could
expect. I am now glad that I reefed, and reduced the head sails,
though I was sorry at having done so when we first came out. At this
rate of sailing, we ought to be up with Key West by morning."
But that rate of sailing did not continue. Toward evening, the
breeze lessened almost to a calm again, the late tornado appearing
to have quite deranged the ordinary stability of the trades. When
the sun set, and it went down into the broad waters of the Gulf a
flood of flame, there was barely a two-knot breeze, and Mulford had
no longer any anxiety on the subject of keeping his vessel on her
legs. His solicitude, now, was confined to the probability of
falling in with the Swash. As yet, nothing was visible, either in
the shape of land or in that of a sail. Between the islets of the
Dry Tortugas and the next nearest visible keys, there is a space of
open water, of some forty miles in width. The reef extends across
it, of course; but nowhere does the rock protrude itself above the
surface of the sea. The depth of water on this reef varies
essentially. In some places, a ship of size might pass on to it, if
not across it; while in others a man could wade for miles. There is
one deep and safe channel--safe to those who are acquainted with
it--through the centre of this open space, and which is sometimes
used by vessels that wish to pass from one side to the other; but it
is ever better for those whose business does not call them in that
direction, to give the rocks a good berth, more especially in the
night.
Mulford had gleaned many of the leading facts connected with the
channels, and the navigation of those waters, from Spike and the
older seamen of the brig, during the time they had been lying at the
Tortugas. Such questions and answers are common enough on board
ships, and, as they are usually put and given with intelligence, one
of our mate's general knowledge of his profession, was likely to
carry away much useful information. By conversations of this nature,
and by consulting the charts, which Spike did not affect to conceal
after the name of his port became known, the young man, in fact, had
so far made himself master of the subject, as to have tolerably
accurate notions of the courses, distances, and general
peculiarities of the reef. When the sun went down, he supposed
himself to be about half-way across the space of open water, and
some five-and-twenty miles dead to windward of his port of
departure. This was doing very well for the circumstances, and
Mulford believed himself and his companions clear of spike, when, as
night drew its veil over the tranquil sea, nothing was in sight.
A very judicious arrangement was made for the watches on board the
Mexican schooner, on this important night. Mrs. Budd had a great
fancy to keep a watch, for once in her life, and, after the party
had supped, and the subject came up in the natural course of things,
a dialogue like this occurred:
"Harry must be fatigued," said Rose, kindly, "and must want sleep.
The wind is so light, and the weather appears to be so settled, that
I think it would be better for him to `turn in,' as he calls
it;"--here Rose laughed so prettily that the handsome mate wished
she would repeat the words,--"better that he should `turn in' now,
and we can call him, should there be need of his advice or
assistance. I dare say Jack Tier and I can take very good care of
the schooner until daylight."
Mrs. Budd thought it would be no more than proper for one of her
experience and years to rebuke this levity, as well as to enlighten
the ignorance her niece had betrayed.
"You should be cautious, my child, how you propose anything to be
done on a ship's board," observed the aunt. "It requires great
experience and a suitable knowledge of rigging to give maritime
advice. Now, as might have been expected, considering your years,
and the short time you have been at sea, you have made several
serious mistakes in what you have proposed. In the first place,
there should always be a mate on the deck, as I have heard your dear
departed uncle say, again and again; and how can there be a mate on
the deck if Mr. Mulford `turns in,' as you propose, seeing that he's
the only mate we have. Then you should never laugh at any maritime
expression, for each and all are, as a body might say, solemnized by
storms and dangers. That Harry is fatigued I think is very probable;
and he must set our watches, as they call it, when he can make his
arrangements for the night, and take his rest as is usual. Here is
my watch to begin with; and I'll engage he does not find it two
minutes out of the way, though yours, Rosy dear, like most girl's
time-pieces, is, I'll venture to say, dreadfully wrong. Where is
your chronometer, Mr. Mulford? let us see how this excellent watch
of mine, which was once my poor departed Mr. Budd's, will agree with
that piece of your's, which I have heard you say is excellent."
Here was a flight in science and nautical language that poor Mulford
could not have anticipated, even in the captain's relict! That Mrs.
Budd should mistake "setting the watch" for "setting our watches,"
was not so very violent a blunder that one ought to be much
astonished at it in her; but that she should expect to find a
chronometer that was intended to keep the time of Greenwich,
agreeing with a watch that was set for the time of New York,
betrayed a degree of ignorance that the handsome mate was afraid
Rose would resent on him, when the mistake was made to appear. As
the widow held out her own watch for the comparison, however, he
could not refuse to produce his own. By Mrs. Budd's watch it was
past seven o'clock, while by his own, or the Greenwich-set
chronometer, it was a little past twelve.
"How very wrong your watch is, Mr. Mulford," cried the good lady,
"notwithstanding all you have said in its favour. It's quite five
hours too fast, I do declare; and now, Rosy dear, you see the
importance of setting watches on a ship's board, as is done every
evening, my departed husband has often told me."
"Harry's must be what he calls a dog-watch, aunty," said Rose,
laughing, though she scarce knew at what.
"The watch goes, too," added the widow, raising the chronometer to
her ear, "though it is so very wrong. Well, set it, Mr. Mulford;
then we will set Rose's, which I'll engage is half an hour out of
the way, though it can never be as wrong as yours."
Mulford was a good deal embarrassed, but he gained courage by
looking at Rose, who appeared to him to be quite as much mystified
as her aunt. For once he hoped Rose was ignorant; for nothing would
be so likely to diminish the feeling produced by the exposure of the
aunt's mistake, as to include the niece in the same category.
"My watch is a chronometer, you will recollect, Mrs. Budd," said the
young man.
"I know it; and they ought to keep the very best time--that I've
always heard. My poor Mr. Budd had two, and they were as large as
compasses, and sold for hundreds after his lamented decease."
"They were ship's chronometers, but mine was made for the pocket. It
is true, chronometers are intended to keep the most accurate time,
and usually they do; this of mine, in particular, would not lose ten
seconds in a twelvemonth, did I not carry it on my person."
"No, no, it does not seem to lose any, Harry; it only gains," cried
Rose, laughing.
Mulford was now satisfied, notwithstanding all that had passed on a
previous occasion, that the laughing, bright-eyed, and quick-witted
girl at his elbow, knew no more of the uses of a chronometer than
her unusually dull and ignorant aunt; and he felt himself relieved
from all embarrassment at once. Though he dared not even seem to
distrust Mrs. Budd's intellect or knowledge before Rose, he did not
scruple to laugh at Rose herself, to Rose. With her there was no
jealousy on the score of capacity, her quickness being almost as
obvious to all who approached her as her beauty.
"Rose Budd, you do not understand the uses of a chronometer, I see,"
said the mate, firmly, "notwithstanding all I have told you
concerning them."
"It is to keep time, Harry Mulford, is it not?"
"True, to keep time--but to keep the time of a particular meridian;
you know what meridian means, I hope?"
Rose looked intently at her lover, and she looked singularly lovely,
for she blushed slightly, though her smile was as open and amicable
as ingenuousness and affection could make it.
"A meridian means a point over our heads--the spot where the sun is
at noon," said Rose, doubtingly.
"Quite right; but it also means longitude, in one sense. If you draw
a line from one pole to the other, all the places it crosses are on
the same meridian. As the sun first appears in the east, it follows
that he rises sooner in places that are east, than in places that
are further west. Thus it is, that at Greenwich, in England, where
there is an observatory made for nautical purposes, the sun rises
about five hours sooner than it does here. All this difference is
subject to rules, and we know exactly how to measure it."
"How can that be, Harry? You told me this but the other day, yet
have I forgotten it."
"Quite easily. As the earth turns round in just twenty-four hours,
and its circumference is divided into three hundred and sixty equal
parts, called degrees, we have only to divide 360 by 24, to know how
many of these degrees are included in the difference produced by one
hour of time. There are just fifteen of them, as you will find by
multiplying 24 by 15. It follows that the sun rises just one hour
later, each fifteen degrees of longitude, as you go west, or one
hour earlier each fifteen degrees of longitude as you go east.
Having ascertained the difference by the hour, it is easy enough to
calculate for the minutes and seconds."
"Yes, yes," said Rose, eagerly, "I see all that--go on."
"Now a chronometer is nothing but a watch, made with great care, so
as not to lose or gain more than a few seconds in a twelvemonth. Its
whole merit is in keeping time accurately."
"Still I do not see how that can be anything more than a very good
watch."
"You will see in a minute, Rose. For purposes that you will
presently understand, books are calculated for certain meridians, or
longitudes, as at Greenwich and Paris, and those who use the books
calculated for Greenwich, get their chronometers set at Greenwich,
and those who use the Paris, get their chronometers set to Paris
time. When I was last in England, I took this watch to Greenwich,
and had it set at the Observatory by the true solar time. Ever since
it has been running by that time, and what you see here is the true
Greenwich time, after allowing for a second or two that it may have
lost or gained."
"All that is plain enough," said the much interested Rose--"but of
what use is it all?"
"To help mariners to find their longitude at sea, and thus know
where they are. As the sun passes so far north, and so far south of
the equator each year, it is easy enough to find the latitude, by
observing his position at noon-day; but for a long time seamen had
great difficulty in ascertaining their longitudes. That, too, is
done by observing the different heavenly bodies, and with greater
accuracy than by any other process; but this thought of measuring
the time is very simple, and so easily put in practice, that we all
run by it now."
"Still I cannot understand it," said Rose, looking so intently, so
eagerly, and so intelligently into the handsome mate's eyes, that he
found it was pleasant to teach her other things besides how to love.
"I will explain it. Having the Greenwich time in the watch, we
observe the sun, in order to ascertain the true time, wherever we
may happen to be. It is a simple thing to ascertain the true time of
day by an observation of the sun, which marks the hours in his
track; and when we get our observation, we have some one to note the
time at a particular instant on the chronometer. By noting the hour,
minutes, and seconds, at Greenwich, at the very instant we observe
here, when we have calculated from that observation the time here,
we have only to add, or subtract, the time here from that of
Greenwich, to know precisely how far east or west we are from
Greenwich, which gives us our longitude."
"I begin to comprehend it again," exclaimed Rose, delighted at the
acquisition in knowledge she had just made. "How beautiful it is,
yet how simple--but why do I forget it?"
"Perfectly simple, and perfectly sure, too, when the chronometer is
accurate, and the observations are nicely made. It is seldom we are
more than eight or ten miles out of the way, and for them we keep a
look-out. It is only to ascertain the time where you are, by means
that are easily used, then look at your watch to learn the time of
day at Greenwich, or any other meridian you may have selected, and
to calculate your distance, east or west, from that meridian, by the
difference in the two times."
Rose could have listened all night, for her quick mind readily
comprehended the principle which lies at the bottom of this useful
process, though still ignorant of some of the details. This time she
was determined to secure her acquisition, though it is quite
probable that, woman-like, they were once more lost, almost as
easily as made. Mulford, however, was obliged to leave her, to look
at the vessel, before he stretched himself on the deck, in an old
sail; it having been previously determined that he should sleep
first, while the wind was light, and that Jack Tier, assisted by the
females, should keep the first watch. Rose would not detain the
mate, therefore, but let him go his way, in order to see that all
was right before he took his rest.
Mrs. Budd had listened to Mulford's second explanation of the common
mode of ascertaining the longitude, with all the attention of which
she was capable; but it far exceeded the powers of her mind to
comprehend it. There are persons who accustom themselves to think so
superficially, that it becomes a painful process to attempt to dive
into any of the arcana of nature, and who ever turn from such
investigations wearied and disgusted. Many of these persons, perhaps
most of them, need only a little patience and perseverance to
comprehend all the more familiar phenomena, but they cannot command
even that much of the two qualities named to obtain the knowledge
they would fain wish to possess. Mrs. Budd did not belong to a
division as high in the intellectual scale as even this vapid class.
Her intellect was unequal to embracing anything of an abstracted
character, and only received the most obvious impressions, and those
quite half the time it received wrong. The mate's reasoning,
therefore, was not only inexplicable to her, but it sounded absurd
and impossible.
"Rosy, dear," said the worthy relict, as soon as she saw Mulford
stretch his fine frame on his bed of canvas, speaking at the same
time in a low, confidential tone to her niece, "what was it that
Harry was telling you a little while ago? It sounded to me like rank
nonsense; and men will talk nonsense to young girls, as I have so
often warned you, child. You must never listen to their nonsense,
Rosy; but remember your catechism and confirmation vow, and be a
good girl."
To how many of the feeble-minded and erring do those offices of the
church prove a stay and support, when their own ordinary powers of
resistance would fail them! Rose, however, viewed the matter just as
it was, and answered accordingly.
"But this was nothing of that nature, aunty," she said, "and only an
account of the mode of finding out where a ship is, when out of
sight of land, in the middle of the ocean. We had the same subject
up the other day."
"And how did Harry tell you, this time, that was done, my dear?"
"By finding the difference in the time of day between two
places--just as he did before."
"But there is no difference in the time of day, child, when the
clocks go well."
"Yes, there is, aunty dear, as the sun rises in one place before it
does in another."
"Rose you've been listening to nonsense now! Remember what I have so
often told you about young men, and their way of talking. I admit
Harry Mulford is a respectable youth, and has respectable
connections, and since you like one another, you may have him, with
all my heart, as soon as he gets a full-jiggered ship, for I am
resolved no niece of my poor dear husband's shall ever marry a mate,
or a captain even, unless he has a full-jiggered ship under his
feet. But do not talk nonsense with him. Nonsense is nonsense,
though a sensible man talks it. As for all this stuff about the time
of day, you can see it is nonsense, as the sun rises but once in
twenty-four hours, and of course there cannot be two times, as you
call it."
"But, aunty dear, it is not always noon at London when it is noon at
New York."
"Fiddle-faddle, child; noon is noon, and there are no more two noons
than two suns, or two times. Distrust what young men tell you, Rosy,
if you would be safe, though they should tell you you are handsome."
Poor Rose sighed, and gave up the explanation in despair. Then a
smile played around her pretty mouth. It was not at her aunt that
she smiled; this she never permitted herself to do, weak as was that
person, and weak as she saw her to be; she smiled at the
recollection how often Mulford had hinted at her good looks--for
Rose was a female, and had her own weaknesses, as well as another.
But the necessity of acting soon drove these thoughts from her mind,
and Rose sought Jack Tier, to confer with him on the subject of
their new duties.
As for Harry Mulford, his head was no sooner laid on its bunch of
sail than he fell into a profound sleep. There he lay, slumbering as
the seaman slumbers, with no sense of surrounding things. The
immense fatigues of that and of the two preceding days,--for he had
toiled at the pumps even long after night had come, until the vessel
was clear,--weighed him down, and nature was now claiming her
influence, and taking a respite from exertion. Had he been left to
himself, it is probable the mate would not have arisen until the sun
had reappeared some hours.
It is now necessary to explain more minutely the precise condition,
as well as the situation of the schooner. On quitting his port,
Mulford had made a stretch of some two leagues in length, toward the
northward and eastward, when he tacked and stood to the southward.
There was enough of southing in the wind, to make his last course
nearly due south. As he neared the reef, he found that he fell in
some miles to the eastward of the islets,--proof that he was doing
very well, and that there was no current to do him any material
harm, if, indeed, there were not actually a current in his favour.
He next tacked to the northward again, and stood in that direction
until near night, when he once more went about. The wind was now so
light that he saw little prospect of getting in with the reef again,
until the return of day; but as he had left orders with Jack Tier to
be called at twelve o'clock, at all events, this gave him no
uneasiness. At the time when the mate lay down to take his rest,
therefore, the schooner was quite five-and-twenty miles to windward
of the Dry Tortugas, and some twenty miles to the northward of the
Florida Reef, with the wind quite light at east-south-east. Such,
then, was the position or situation of the schooner.
As respects her condition, it is easily described. She had but the
three sails bent,--mainsail, foresail, and jib. Her topmasts had
been struck, and all the hamper that belonged to them was below. The
mainsail was single reefed, and the foresail and jib were without
their bonnets, as has already been mentioned. This was somewhat
short canvas, but Mulford knew that it would render his craft more
manageable in the event of a blow. Usually, at that season and in
that region, the east trades prevailed with great steadiness,
sometimes diverging a little south of east, as at present, and
generally blowing fresh. But, for a short time previously to, and
ever since the tornado, the wind had been unsettled, the old
currents appearing to regain their ascendancy by fits, and then
losing it, in squalls, contrary currents, and even by short calms.
The conference between Jack Tier and Rose was frank and
confidential.
"We must depend mainly on you," said the latter, turning to look
toward the spot where Mulford lay, buried in the deepest sleep that
had ever gained power over him. "Harry is so fatigued! It would be
shameful to awaken him a moment sooner than is necessary."
"Ay, ay; so it is always with young women, when they lets a young
man gain their ears," answered Jack, without the least
circumlocution; "so it is, and so it always will be, I'm afeard.
Nevertheless, men is willians."
Rose was not affronted at this plain allusion to the power that
Mulford had obtained over her feelings. It would seem that Jack had
got to be so intimate in the cabins, that his sex was, in a measure,
forgotten; and it is certain that his recent services were not.
Without a question, but for his interference, the pretty Rose Budd
would, at that moment, have been the prisoner of Spike, and most
probably the victim of his design to compel her to marry him.
"All men are not Stephen Spikes," said Rose, earnestly, "and least
of all is Harry Mulford to be reckoned as one of his sort. But, we
must manage to take care of the schooner the whole night, and let
Harry get his rest. He wished to be called at twelve, but we can
easily let the hour go by, and not awaken him."
"The commanding officer ought not to be sarved so, Miss Rose. What
he says is to be done."
"I know it, Jack, as to ordinary matters; but Harry left these
orders that we might have our share of rest, and for no other reason
at all. And what is to prevent our having it? We are four, and can
divide ourselves into two watches; one watch can sleep while the
other keeps a look-out."
"Ay, ay, and pretty watches they would be! There's Madam Budd, now;
why, she's quite a navigator, and knows all about weerin' and
haulin', and I dares to say could put the schooner about, to keep
her off the reef, on a pinch; though which way the craft would come
round, could best be told a'ter it has been done. It's as much as
I'd undertake myself, Miss Rose, to take care of the schooner,
should it come on to blow; and as for you, Madam Budd, and that
squalling Irishwoman, you'd be no better than so many housewives
ashore."
"We have strength, and we have courage, and we can pull, as you have
seen. I know very well which way to put the helm now, and Biddy is
as strong as you are yourself, and could help me all I wished. Then
we could always call you, at need, and have your assistance. Nay,
Harry himself can be called, if there should be a real necessity for
it, and I do wish he may not be disturbed until there is that
necessity."
It was with a good deal of reluctance that Jack allowed himself to
be persuaded into this scheme. He insisted, for a long time, that an
officer should be called at the hour mentioned by himself, and
declared he had never known such an order neglected, "marchant-man,
privateer, or man-of-war." Rose prevailed over his scruples,
however, and there was a meeting of the three females to make the
final arrangements. Mrs. Budd, a kind-hearted woman, at the worst,
gave her assent most cheerfully, though Rose was a little startled
with the nature of the reasoning, with which it was accompanied.
"You are quite right, Rosy dear," said the aunt, "and the thing is
very easily done. I've long wanted to keep one watch, at sea; just
one watch; to complete my maritime education. Your poor uncle used
to say, `Give my wife but one night-watch, and you'd have as good a
seaman in her as heart could wish.' I'm sure I've had night-watches
enough with him and his ailings; but it seems that they were not the
sort of watches he meant. Indeed, I did n't know till this evening
there were so many watches in the world, at all. But this is just
what I want, and just what I'm resolved to have. Tier shall command
one watch and I'll command the other. Jack's shall be the
`dog-watch,' as they call it, and mine shall be the `middle-watch,'
and last till morning. You shall be in Jack's watch, Rose, and Biddy
shall be in mine. You know a good deal that Jack do n't know, and
Biddy can do a good deal I'm rather too stout to do. I do n't like
pulling ropes, but as for ordering, I'll turn my back on no
captain's widow out of York."
Rose had her own misgivings on the subject of her aunt's issuing
orders on such a subject to any one, but she made the best of
necessity, and completed the arrangements without further
discussion. Her great anxiety was to secure a good night's rest for
Harry, already feeling a woman's care in the comfort and ease of the
man she loved. And Rose did love Harry Mulford warmly and sincerely.
If the very decided preference with which she regarded him before
they sailed, had not absolutely amounted to passion, it had come so
very near it as to render that access of feeling certain, under the
influence of the association and events which succeeded. We have not
thought it necessary to relate a tithe of the interviews and
intercourse that had taken place between the handsome mate and the
pretty Rose Budd, during the month they had now been shipmates,
having left the reader to imagine the natural course of things,
under such circumstances. Nevertheless, the plighted troth had not
been actually given until Harry joined her on the islet, at a moment
when she fancied herself abandoned to a fate almost as serious as
death. Rose had seen Mulford quit the brig, had watched the mode and
manner of his escape, and in almost breathless amazement, and felt
how dear to her he had become, by the glow of delight which warmed
her heart, when assured that he could not, would not, forsake her,
even though he remained at the risk of life. She was now, true to
the instinct of her sex, mostly occupied in making such a return for
an attachment so devoted as became her tenderness and the habits of
her mind.
As Mrs. Budd chose what she was pleased to term the `middle-watch,'
giving to Jack Tier and Rose her `dog-watch,' the two last were
first on duty. It is scarcely necessary to say, the captain's widow
got the names of the watches all wrong, as she got the names of
everything else about a vessel; but the plan was to divide the night
equally between these quasi mariners, giving the first half to those
who were first on the look-out, and the remainder to their
successors. It soon became so calm, that Jack left the helm, and
came and sat by Rose, on the trunk, where they conversed
confidentially for a long time. Although the reader will, hereafter,
be enabled to form some plausible conjectures on the subject of this
dialogue, we shall give him no part of it here. All that need now be
said, is to add, that Jack did most of the talking, that his past
life was the principal theme, and that the terrible Stephen Spike,
he from whom they were now so desirous of escaping, was largely
mixed up with the adventures recounted. Jack found in his companion
a deeply interested listener, although this was by no means the
first time they had gone over together the same story and discussed
the same events. The conversation lasted until Tier, who watched the
glass, seeing that its sands had run out for the last time,
announced the hour of midnight. This was the moment when Mulford
should have been called, but when Mrs. Budd and Biddy Noon were
actually awakened in his stead.
"Now, dear aunty," said Rose, as she parted from the new watch to go
and catch a little sleep herself, "remember you are not to awaken
Harry first, but to call Tier and myself. It would have done your
heart good to have seen how sweetly he has been sleeping all this
time. I do not think he has stirred once since his head was laid on
that bunch of sails, and there he is, at this moment, sleeping like
an infant!"
"Yes," returned the relict, "it is always so with your true maritime
people. I have been sleeping a great deal more soundly, the whole of
the dog-watch, than I ever slept at home, in my own excellent bed.
But it's your watch below, Rosy, and contrary to rule for you to
stay on the deck, after you've been relieved. I've heard this a
thousand times."
Rose was not sorry to lie down; and her head was scarcely on its
pillow, in the cabin, before she was fast asleep. As for Jack, he
found a place among Mulford's sails, and was quickly in the same
state.
To own the truth, Mrs. Budd was not quite as much at ease, in her
new station, for the first half hour, as she had fancied to herself
might prove to be the case. It was a flat calm, it is true; but the
widow felt oppressed with responsibility and the novelty of her
situation. Time and again had she said, and even imagined, she
should be delighted to fill the very station she then occupied, or
to be in charge of a deck, in a "middle watch." In this instance,
however, as in so many others, reality did not equal anticipation.
She wished to be doing everything, but did not know how to do
anything. As for Biddy, she was even worse off than her mistress. A
month's experience, or for that matter a twelvemonth's, could not
unravel to her the mysteries of even a schooner's rigging. Mrs. Budd
had placed her "at the wheel," as she called it, though the vessel
had no wheel, being steered by a tiller on deck, in the 'long-shore
fashion. In stationing Biddy, the widow told her that she was to
play "tricks at the wheel," leaving it to the astounded Irish
woman's imagination to discover what those tricks were. Failing in
ascertaining what might be the nature of her "tricks at the wheel,"
Biddy was content to do nothing, and nothing, under the
circumstances, was perhaps the very best thing she could have done.
Little was required to be done for the first four hours of Mrs.
Budd's watch. All that time, Rose slept in her berth, and Mulford
and Jack Tier on their sail, while Biddy had played the wheel a
"trick," indeed, by lying down on deck, and sleeping, too, as
soundly as if she were in the county Down itself. But there was to
be an end of this tranquillity. Suddenly the wind began to blow. At
first, the breeze came in fitful puffs, which were neither very
strong nor very lasting. This induced Mrs. Budd to awaken Biddy.
Luckily, a schooner without a topsail could not very well be taken
aback, especially as the head-sheets worked on travellers, and Mrs.
Budd and her assistant contrived to manage the tiller very well for
the first hour that these varying puffs of wind lasted. It is true,
the tiller was lashed, and it is also true, the schooner ran in all
directions, having actually headed to all the cardinal points of the
compass, under her present management. At length, Mrs. Budd became
alarmed. A puff of wind came so strong, as to cause the vessel to
lie over so far as to bring the water into the lee scuppers. She
called Jack Tier herself, therefore, and sent Biddy down to awaken
Rose. In a minute, both these auxiliaries appeared on deck. The wind
just then lulled, and Rose, supposing her aunt was frightened at
trifles, insisted on it that Harry should be permitted to sleep on.
He had turned over once, in the course of the night, but not once
had he raised his head from his pillow.
As soon as reinforced, Mrs. Budd began to bustle about, and to give
commands, such as they were, in order to prove that she was
unterrified. Jack Tier gaped at her elbow, and by way of something
to do, he laid his hand on the painter of the Swash's boat, which
boat was towing astern, and remarked that "some know-nothing had
belayed it with three half-hitches." This was enough for the relict.
She had often heard the saying that "three half-hitches lost the
king's long-boat," and she busied herself, at once, in repairing so
imminent an evil. It was far easier for the good woman to talk than
to act; she became what is called "all fingers and thumbs," and in
loosening the third half-hitch, she cast off the two others. At that
instant, a puff of wind struck the schooner again, and the end of
the painter got away from the widow, who had a last glimpse at the
boat, as the vessel darted ahead, leaving its little tender to
vanish in the gloom of the night.
Jack was excessively provoked at this accident, for he had foreseen
the possibility of having recourse to that boat yet, in order to
escape from Spike. By abandoning the schooner, and pulling on to the
reef, it might have been possible to get out of their pursuer's
hands, when all other means should fail them. As he was at the
tiller, he put his helm up, and ran off, until far enough to leeward
to be to the westward of the boat, when he might tack, fetch and
recover it. Nevertheless, it now blew much harder than he liked, for
the schooner seemed to be unusually tender. Had he had the force to
do it, he would have brailed the foresail. He desired Rose to call
Mulford, but she hesitated about complying.
"Call him--call the mate, I say," cried out Jack, in a voice that
proved how much he was in earnest. "These puffs come heavy, I can
tell you, and they come often, too. Call him--call him, at once,
Miss Rose, for it is time to tack if we wish to recover the boat.
Tell him, too, to brail the foresail, while we are in stays--that's
right; another call will start him up."
The other call was given, aided by a gentle shake from Rose's hand.
Harry was on his feet in a moment. A passing instant was necessary
to clear his faculties, and to recover the tenor of his thoughts.
During that instant, the mate heard Jack Tier's shrill cry of "Hard
a-lee--get in that foresail--bear a-hand--in with it, I say!"
The wind came rushing and roaring, and the flaps of the canvas were
violent and heavy.
"In with the foresail, I say," shouted Jack Tier. "She files round
like a top, and will be off the wind on the other tack presently.
Bear a-hand!--bear a-hand! It looks black as night to windward."
Mulford then regained all his powers. He sprang to the fore-sheet,
calling on the others for aid. The violent surges produced by the
wind prevented his grasping the sheet as soon as he could wish, and
the vessel whirled round on her heel, like a steed that is
frightened. At that critical and dangerous instant, when the
schooner was nearly without motion through the water, a squall
struck the flattened sails, and bowed her down as the willow bends
to the gale. Mrs. Budd and Biddy screamed as usual, and Jack shouted
until his voice seemed cracked, to "let go the head-sheets." Mulford
did make one leap forward, to execute this necessary office, when
the inclining plane of the deck told him it was too late. The wind
fairly howled for a minute, and over went the schooner, the remains
of her cargo shifting as she capsized, in a way to bring her very
nearly bottom upward.
1. We suppress the names used by Mrs. Budd, out of delicacy to the
individuals mentioned, who are still living.