Chapter 1

JACK TIER.

CHAPTER I.

  The night has been unruly: where we lay,
  Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they say,
  Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death;
  And prophesying, with accents terrible,
  Of dire combustion, and confused events,
  New hatched to the woful time.

_Macbeth_.

It is seldom that man is required to make an exertion as desperate
and appalling, in all its circumstances, as that on which Harry
Mulford was now bent. The night was starlight, it was true, and it
was possible to see objects near by with tolerable distinctness;
still, it was midnight, and the gloom of that hour rested on the
face of the sea, lending its solemn mystery and obscurity to the
other trying features of the undertaking. Then there was the
uncertainty whether it was the boat at all, of which he was in
pursuit; and, if the boat, it might drift away from him as fast as
he could follow it. Nevertheless, the perfect conviction that,
without some early succour, the party on the wreck, including Rose
Budd, must inevitably perish, stimulated him to proceed, and a
passing feeling of doubt, touching the prudence of his course, that
came over the young mate, when he was a few yards from the wreck,
vanished under a vivid renewal of this last conviction. On he swam,
therefore, riveting his eye on the "thoughtful star" that guided his
course, and keeping his mind as tranquil as possible, in order that
the exertions of his body might be the easier.

Mulford was an excellent swimmer. The want of food was a serious
obstacle to his making one of his best efforts, but, as yet, he was
not very sensible of any great loss of strength. Understanding fully
the necessity of swimming easily, if he would swim long, he did not
throw out all his energy at first, but made the movements of his
limbs as regular, continued, and skilful as possible. No strength
was thrown away, and his progress was in proportion to the prudence
of this manner of proceeding. For some twenty minutes he held on his
course, in this way, when he began to experience a little of that
weariness which is apt to accompany an unremitted use of the same
set of muscles, in a monotonous and undeviating mode. Accustomed to
all the resources of his art, he turned on his back, for the double
purpose of relieving his arms for a minute, and of getting a glimpse
of the wreck, if possible, in order to ascertain the distance he had
overcome. Swim long in this new manner, however, he could not with
prudence, as the star was necessary in order to keep the direct line
of his course. It may be well to explain to some of our readers,
that, though the surface of the ocean may be like glass, as
sometimes really happens, it is never absolutely free from the long,
undulating motion that is known by the name of a "ground swell."
This swell, on the present occasion, was not very heavy, but it was
sufficient to place our young mate, at moments, between two dark
mounds of water, that limited his view in either direction to some
eighty or a hundred yards; then it raised him on the summit of a
rounded wave, that enabled him to see, far as his eye could reach
under that obscure light. Profiting by this advantage, Mulford now
looked behind him, in quest of the wreck, but uselessly. It might
have been in the trough, while he was thus on the summit of the
waves, or it might be that it floated so low as to be totally lost
to the view of one whose head was scarcely above the surface of the
water. For a single instant, the young man felt a chill at his
heart, as he fancied that the wreck had already sunk; but it passed
away when he recalled the slow progress by which the air escaped,
and he saw the certainty that the catastrophe, however inevitable,
could not yet have really arrived. He waited for another swell to
lift him on its summit, when, by "treading water," he raised his
head and shoulders fairly above the surface of the sea, and strained
his eyes in another vain effort to catch a glimpse of the wreck. He
could not see it. In point of fact, the mate had swum much further
than he had supposed, and was already so distant as to render any
such attempt hopeless. He was fully a third of a mile distant from
the point of his departure.

Disappointed, and in a slight degree disheartened, Mulford turned,
and swam in the direction of the sinking star. He now looked
anxiously for the boat. It was time that it came more plainly into
view, and a new source of anxiety beset him, as he could discover no
signs of its vicinity. Certain that he was on the course, after
making a due allowance for the direction of the wind, the
stout-hearted young man swam on. He next determined not to annoy
himself by fruitless searches, or vain regrets, but to swim steadily
for a certain time, a period long enough to carry him a material
distance, ere he again looked for the object of his search.

For twenty minutes longer did that courageous and active youth
struggle with the waste of waters, amid the obscurity and solitude
of midnight. He now believed himself near a mile from the wreck, and
the star which had so long served him for a beacon was getting near
to the horizon. He took a new observation of another of the heavenly
bodies nigh it, to serve him in its stead when it should disappear
altogether, and then he raised himself in the water, and looked
about again for the boat. The search was in vain. No boat was very
near him, of a certainty, and the dreadful apprehension began to
possess his mind, of perishing uselessly in that waste of gloomy
waters. While thus gazing about him, turning his eyes in every
quarter, hoping intently to catch some glimpse of the much-desired
object in the gloom, he saw two dark, pointed objects, that
resembled small stakes, in the water within twenty feet of him.
Mulford knew them at a glance, and a cold shudder passed through his
frame, as he recognised them. They were, out of all question, the
fins of an enormous shark; an animal that could not measure less
than eighteen or twenty feet in length.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that when our young mate discovered
the proximity of this dangerous animal, situated as he was, he gave
himself up for lost. He possessed his knife, however, and had heard
of the manner in which even sharks were overcome, and that too in
their own element, by the skilful and resolute. At first, he was
resolved to make one desperate effort for life, before he submitted
to a fate as horrible as that which now menaced him; but the
movements of his dangerous neighbour induced him to wait. It did not
approach any nearer, but continued swimming back and fro, on the
surface of the water, according to the known habits of the fish, as
if watching his own movements. There being no time to be wasted, our
young mate turned on his face, and began again to swim in the
direction of the setting star, though nearly chilled by despair. For
ten minutes longer did he struggle on, beginning to feel exhaustion,
however, and always accompanied by those two dark, sharp and gliding
fins. There was no difficulty in knowing the position of the animal,
and Mulford's eyes were oftener on those fins than on the beacon
before him. Strange as it may appear, he actually became accustomed
to the vicinity of this formidable creature, and soon felt his
presence a sort of relief against the dreadful solitude of his
situation. He had been told by seamen of instances, and had once
witnessed a case himself, in which a shark had attended a swimming
man for a long distance, either forbearing to do him harm, from
repletion, or influenced by that awe which nature has instilled into
all of the inferior, for the highest animal of the creation. He
began to think that he was thus favoured, and really regarded the
shark as a friendly neighbour, rather than as a voracious foe. In
this manner did the two proceed, nearly another third of a mile, the
fins sometimes in sight ahead, gliding hither and thither, and
sometimes out of view behind the swimmer, leaving him in dreadful
doubts as to the movements of the fish, when Mulford suddenly felt
something hard hit his foot. Believing it to be the shark, dipping
for his prey, a slight exclamation escaped him. At the next instant
both feet hit the unknown substance again, and he stood erect, the
water no higher than his waist! Quick, and comprehending everything
connected with the sea, the young man at once understood that he was
on a part of the reef where the water was so shallow as to admit of
his wading.

Mulford felt that he had been providentially rescued from death. His
strength had been about to fail him, when he was thus led, unknown
to himself, to a spot where his life might yet be possibly prolonged
for a few more hours, or days. He had leisure to look about him, and
to reflect on what was next to be done. Almost unwittingly, he
turned in quest of his terrible companion, in whose voracious mouth
he had actually believed himself about to be immolated, a few
seconds before. There the two horn-like fins still were, gliding
about above the water, and indicating the smallest movement of their
formidable owner. The mate observed that they went a short distance
ahead of him, describing nearly a semi-circle, and then returned,
doing the same thing in his rear, repeating the movements
incessantly, keeping always on his right. This convinced him that
shoaler water existed on his left hand, and he waded in that
direction, until he reached a small spot of naked rock.

For a time, at least, he was safe! The fragment of coral on which
the mate now stood, was irregular in shape, but might have contained
a hundred feet square in superficial measurement, and was so little
raised above the level of the water as not to be visible, even by
daylight, at the distance of a hundred yards. Mulford found it was
perfectly dry, however, an important discovery to him, as by a close
calculation he had made of the tides, since quitting the Dry
Tortugas, he knew it must be near high water. Could he have even
this small portion of bare rock secure, it made him, for the moment,
rich as the most extensive landholder living. A considerable
quantity of sea-weed had lodged on the rock, and, as most of this
was also quite dry, it convinced the young sailor that the place was
usually bare. But, though most of this sea-weed was dry, there were
portions of the more recent accessions there that still lay in, or
quite near to the water, which formed exceptions. In handling these
weeds, in order to ascertain the facts, Mulford caught a small
shell-fish, and finding it fresh and easy to open, he swallowed it
with the eagerness of a famishing man. Never had food proved half so
grateful to him as that single swallow of a very palatable
testaceous animal. By feeling further, he found several others of
the same family, and made quite as large a meal, as, under the
circumstances, was probably good for him. Then, grateful for his
escape, but overcome by fatigue, he hastily arranged a bed of
sea-weed, drew a portion of the plant over his body, to keep him
warm, and fell into a deep sleep that lasted for hours.

Mulford did not regain his consciousness until the rays of the
rising sun fell upon his eye-lids, and the genial warmth of the
great luminary shed its benign influence over his frame. At first
his mind was confused, and it required a few seconds to bring a
perfect recollection of the past, and a true understanding of his
real situation. They came, however, and the young man moved to the
highest part of his little domain, and cast an anxious, hurried look
around in quest of the wreck. A knowledge of the course in which he
had swum, aided by the position of the sun, told him on what part of
the naked waste to look for the object he sought. God had not yet
forsaken them! There was the wreck; or, it might be more exact to
say, there were those whom the remaining buoyancy of the wreck still
upheld from sinking into the depths of the gulf. In point of fact,
but a very little of the bottom of the vessel actually remained
above water, some two or three yards square at most, and that little
was what seamen term nearly awash. Two or three hours must bury that
small portion of the still naked wood beneath the surface of the
sea, though sufficient buoyancy might possibly remain for the entire
day still to keep the living from death.

There the wreck was, however, yet floating; and, though not visible
to Mulford, with a small portion of it above water. He saw the four
persons only; and what was more, they saw him. This was evident by
Jack Tier's waving his hat like a man cheering. When Mulford
returned this signal, the shawl of Rose was tossed into the air, in
a way to leave no doubt that he was seen and known. The explanation
of this early recognition and discovery of the young mate was very
simple. Tier was not asleep when Harry left the wreck, though,
seeing the importance of the step the other was taking, he had
feigned to be so. When Rose awoke, missed her lover, and was told
what had happened, her heart was kept from sinking by his
encouraging tale and hopes. An hour of agony had succeeded,
nevertheless, when light returned and no Mulford was to be seen. The
despair that burst upon the heart of our heroine was followed by the
joy of discovering him on the rock.

It is scarcely necessary to say how much the parties were relieved
on ascertaining their respective positions. Faint as were the hopes
of each of eventual delivery, the two or three minutes that
succeeded seemed to be minutes of perfect happiness. After this rush
of unlooked-for joy, Mulford continued his intelligent examination
of surrounding objects.

The wreck was fully half a mile from the rock of the mate, but much
nearer to the reef than it had been the previous night. "Could it
but ground on the rocks," thought the young man, "it would be a most
blessed event." The thing was possible, though the first half hour
of his observations told him that its drift was in the direction of
the open passage so often named, rather than toward the nearest
rocks. Still, that drift brought Rose each minute nearer and nearer
to himself again. In looking round, however, the young man saw the
boat. It was a quarter of a mile distant, with open water between
them, apparently grounded on a rock, for it was more within the reef
than he was himself. He must have passed it in the dark, and the
boat had been left to obey the wind and currents, and to drift to
the spot where it then lay.

Mulford shouted aloud when he saw the boat, and at once determined
to swim in quest of it, as soon as he had collected a little
refreshment from among the sea-weed. On taking a look at his rock by
daylight, he saw that its size was quadrupled to the eye by the
falling of the tide, and that water was lying in several of the
cavities of its uneven surface. At first he supposed this to be
sea-water, left by the flood; but, reflecting a moment, he
remembered the rain, and hoped it might be possible that one little
cavity, containing two or three gallons of the fluid, would turn out
to be fresh. Kneeling beside it, he applied his lips in feverish
haste, and drank the sweetest draught that had ever passed his lips.
Slaking his thirst, which had begun again to be painfully severe, he
arose with a heart overflowing with gratitude--could he only get
Rose to that narrow and barren rock, it would seem to be an earthly
paradise. Mulford next made his scanty, but, all things considered,
sufficient meal, drank moderately afterward, and then turned his
attention and energies toward the boat, which, though now aground
and fast, might soon float on the rising tide, and drift once more
beyond his reach. It was his first intention to swim directly for
his object; but, just when about to enter the water, he saw with
horror the fins of at least a dozen sharks, which were prowling
about in the deeper water of the reef, and almost encircling his
hold. To throw himself in the midst of such enemies would be
madness, and he stopped to reflect, and again to look about him. For
the first time that morning, he took a survey of the entire horizon,
to see if anything were in sight; for, hitherto, his thoughts had
been too much occupied with Rose and her companions, to remember
anything else. To the northward and westward he distinctly saw the
upper sails of a large ship, that was standing on a wind to the
northward and eastward. As there was no port to which a vessel of
that character would be likely to be bound in the quarter of the
Gulf to which such a course would lead, Mulford at once inferred it
was the sloop-of-war, which, after having examined the islets, at
the Dry Tortugas, and finding them deserted, was beating up, either
to go into Key West, or to pass to the southward of the reef again,
by the passage through which she had come as lately as the previous
day. This was highly encouraging; and could he only get to the boat,
and remove the party from the wreck before it sunk, there was now
every prospect of a final escape.

To the southward, also, the mate fancied he saw a sail. It was
probably a much smaller vessel than the ship in the north-west, and
at a greater distance. It might, however, be the lofty sails of some
large craft; standing along the reef, going westward, bound to New
Orleans, or to that new and important port, Point Isabel: or it
might be some wrecker, or other craft, edging away into the passage.
As it was, it appeared only as a speck in the horizon; and was too
far off to offer much prospect of succour.

Thus acquainted with the state of things around him, Mulford gave
his attention seriously to his duties. He was chiefly afraid that
the returning tide might lift the boat from the rock on which it had
grounded, and that it would float beyond his reach. Then there was
the frightful and ever-increasing peril of the wreck, and the
dreadful fate that so inevitably menaced those that it held, were
not relief prompt. This thought goaded him nearly to desperation,
and he felt at moments almost ready to plunge into the midst of the
sharks, and fight his way to his object.

But reflection showed him a less hazardous way of making an effort
to reach the boat. The sharks' fins described a semicircle only, as
had been the case of his single attendant during the night, and he
thought that the shealness of the water prevented their going
further than they did, in a south-easterly direction, which was that
of the boat. He well knew that a shark required sufficient water to
sink beneath its prey, ere it made its swoop, and that it uniformly
turned on its back, and struck upward whenever it gave one of its
voracious bites. This was owing to the greater length of its upper
than of its lower jaw, and Mulford had heard it was a physical
necessity of its formation. Right or wrong, he determined to act on
this theory, and began at once to wade along the part of the reef
that his enemies seemed unwilling to approach.

Had our young mate a weapon of any sort larger than his knife, he
would have felt greater confidence in his success. As it was,
however, he drew that knife, and was prepared to sell his life
dearly should a foe assail him. No sooner was his step heard in the
water, than the whole group of sharks were set in violent motion,
glancing past, and frequently quite near him, as if aware their
intended prey was about to escape. Had the water deepened much,
Harry would have returned at once, for a conflict with such numbers
would have been hopeless; but it did not; on the contrary, it
shoaled again, after a very short distance, at which it had been
waist-deep; and Mulford found himself wading over a long, broad
surface of rock, and that directly toward the boat, through water
that seldom rose above his knees, and which, occasionally, scarce
covered his feet. There was no absolutely naked rock near him, but
there seemed to be acres of that which might be almost said to be
awash. Amid the greedy throng that endeavoured to accompany him, the
mate even fancied he recognised the enormous fins of his old
companion, who sailed to and fro in the crowd in a stately manner,
as if merely a curious looker-on of his own movements. It was the
smaller, and probably the younger sharks, that betrayed the greatest
hardihood and voracity. One or two of these made fierce swoops
toward Harry, as if bent on having him at every hazard; but they
invariably glided off when they found their customary mode of attack
resisted by the shoalness of the water.

Our young mate got ahead but slowly, being obliged to pay a cautious
attention to the movements of his escort. Sometimes he was compelled
to wade up to his arms in order to cross narrow places, that he
might get on portions of the rock that were nearly bare; and once he
was actually compelled to swim eight or ten yards. Nevertheless, he
did get on, and after an hour of this sort of work, he found himself
within a hundred yards of the boat, which lay grounded near a low
piece of naked rock, but separated from it by a channel of deep
water, into which all the sharks rushed in a body, as if expressly
to cut off his escape. Mulford now paused to take breath, and to
consider what ought to be done. On the spot where he stood he was
quite safe, though ancle-deep in the sea, the shallow water
extending to a considerable distance on all sides of him, with the
single exception of the channel in his front. He stood on the very
verge of that channel, and could see in the pellucid element before
him, that it was deep enough to float a vessel of some size.

To venture into the midst of twenty sharks required desperation, and
Harry was not yet reduced to that. He had been so busy in making his
way to the point where he stood as to have no leisure to look for
the wreck; but he now turned his eyes in quest of that
all-interesting object. He saw the shawl fluttering in the breeze,
and that was all he could see. Tier had contrived to keep it flying
as a signal where he was to be found, but the hull of the schooner
had sunk so low in the water that they who were seated on its keel
were not visible even at the short distance which now separated them
from Mulford. Encouraged by this signal, and animated by the revived
hope of still saving his companions, Harry turned toward the
channel, half inclined to face every danger rather than to wait any
longer. At that moment the fins were all gliding along the channel
from him, and in the same direction. Some object drew the sharks
away in a body, and the young mate let himself easily into the
water, and swam as noiselessly as he could toward the boat.

It was a fearful trial, but Mulford felt that everything depended on
his success. Stimulated by his motive, and strengthened by the food
and water taken an hour before, never had he shown so much skill and
power in the water. In an incredibly short period he was half-way
across the channel, still swimming strong and unharmed. A few
strokes more sent him so near the boat that hope took full
possession of his soul, and he shouted in exultation. That
indiscreet but natural cry, uttered so near the surface of the sea,
turned every shark upon him, as the pack springs at the fox in view.
Mulford was conscious of the folly of his cry the instant it escaped
him, and involuntarily he turned his head to note the effect on his
enemies. Every fin was gliding toward him--a dark array of swift and
furious foes. Ten thousand bayonets, levelled in their line, could
not have been one-half as terrible, and the efforts of the young man
became nearly frantic. But strong as he was, and ready in the
element, what is the movement of a man in the water compared to that
of a vigorous and voracious fish? Mulford could see those fins
coming on like a tempest, and he had just given up all hope, and was
feeling his flesh creep with terror, when his foot hit the rock.
Giving himself an onward plunge, he threw his body upward toward the
boat, and into so much shoaler water, at least a dozen feet by that
single effort. Recovering his legs as soon as possible, he turned to
look behind him. The water seemed alive with fins, each pair gliding
back and forth, as the bull-dog bounds in front of the ox's muzzle.
Just then a light-coloured object glanced past the young man, so
near as almost to touch him. It was a shark that had actually turned
on its back to seize its prey, and was only prevented from
succeeding by being driven from the line of its course by hitting
the slimy rock, over which it was compelled to make its plunge. The
momentum with which it came on, added to the inclination of the
rock, forced the head and half of the body of this terrible
assailant into the air, giving the intended victim an opportunity of
seeing from what a fate he had escaped. Mulford avoided this fish
without much trouble, however, and the next instant he threw himself
into the boat, on the bottom of which he lay panting with the
violence of his exertions, and unable to move under the reaction
which now came over his system.

The mate lay in the bottom of the boat, exhausted and unable to
rise, for several minutes; during that space he devoutly returned
thanks to God for his escape, and bethought him of the course he was
next to pursue, in order to effect the rescue of his companions. The
boat was larger than common. It was also well equipped--a mast and
sail lying along with the oars, on its thwarts. The rock placed
Harry to windward of the wreck, and by the time he felt sufficiently
revived to rise and look about him, his plan of proceeding was fully
arranged in his own mind. Among other things that he saw, as he
still lay in the bottom of the boat, was a breaker which he knew
contained fresh water, and a bread-bag. These were provisions that
it was customary for the men to make, when employed on boat duty;
and the articles had been left where he now saw them, in the hurry
of the movements, as the brig quitted the islets.

Harry rose the instant he felt his strength returning. Striking the
breaker with his foot, and feeling the basket with a hand, he
ascertained that the one held its water, and the other its bread.
This was immense relief, for by this time the sufferings of the
party on the wreck must be returning with redoubled force. The mate
then stepped the mast, and fitted the sprit to the sail, knowing
that the latter would be seen fluttering in the wind by those on the
wreck, and carry joy to their hearts. After this considerate act, he
began to examine into the position of the boat. It was still
aground, having been left by the tide; but the water had already
risen several inches, and by placing himself on a gunwale, so as to
bring the boat on its bilge, and pushing with an oar, he soon got it
into deep water. It only remained to haul aft the sheet, and right
the helm, to be standing through the channel, at a rate that
promised a speedy deliverance to his friends, and, most of all, to
Rose.

Mulford glanced past the rocks and shoals, attended by the whole
company of the sharks. They moved before, behind, and on each side
of him, as if unwilling to abandon their prey, even after he had got
beyond the limits of their power to do him harm. It was not an easy
thing to manage the boat in that narrow and crooked channel, with no
other guide for the courses than the eye, and it required so much of
the mate's vigilance to keep clear of the sharp angles of the rocks,
that he could not once cast his eyes aside, to look for the
fluttering shawl, which now composed the standing signal of the
wreck. At length the boat shot through the last passage of the reef,
and issued into open water. Mulford knew that he must come out half
a mile at least to leeward of his object, and, without even raising
his head, he flattened in the sheet, put his helm down, and luffed
close to the wind. Then, and then only, did he venture to look
around him.

Our mate felt his heart leap toward his mouth, as he observed the
present state of the wreck. It was dead to windward of him, in the
first place, and it seemed to be entirely submerged. He saw the
shawl fluttering as before; for Tier had fastened one corner to a
button-hole of his own jacket, and another to the dress of Biddy,
leaving the part which might be called the fly, to rise at moments
almost perpendicularly in the air, in a way to render it visible at
some distance. He saw also the heads and the bodies of those on the
schooner's bottom, but to him they appeared to be standing in, or
on, the water. The distance may have contributed a little to this
appearance, but no doubt remained that so much air had escaped from
the hold of the vessel, as to permit it to sink altogether beneath
the surface of the sea. It was time, indeed, to proceed to the
relief of the sufferers.

Notwithstanding the boat sailed particularly fast, and worked
beautifully, it could not equal the impatience of Mulford to get on.
Passing away to the north-east a sufficient distance, as he thought,
to weather on the wreck, the young man tacked at last, and had the
happiness to see that every foot he proceeded was now in a direct
line toward Rose. It was only while tacking he perceived that all
the fins had disappeared. He felt little doubt that they had
deserted him, in order to push for the wreck, which offered so much
larger, and so much more attainable prey. This increased his
feverish desire to get on, the boat seeming to drag, in his eyes, at
the very moment it was leaving a wake full of eddies and little
whirlpools. The wind was steady, but it seemed to Mulford that the
boat was set to leeward of her course by a current, though this
could hardly have been the case, as the wreck, the sole mark of his
progress, would have had at least as great a drift as the boat. At
length Mulford--to him it appeared to be an age; in truth it was
after a run of about twenty minutes--came near the goal he so
earnestly sought, and got an accurate view of the state of the
wreck, and of those on it. The hull of the schooner had, in truth,
sunk entirely beneath the surface of the sea; and the party it
sustained stood already knee-deep in the water. This was
sufficiently appalling; but the presence of the sharks, who were
crowding around the spot, rendered the whole scene frightful. To the
young mate it seemed as if he must still be too late to save Rose
from a fate more terrible than drowning, for his boat fell so far to
leeward as to compel him to tack once more. As he swept past the
wreck, he called out to encourage his friends, begging them to be of
good heart for five minutes longer, when he should be able to reach
them. Rose held out her arms entreatingly, and the screams of Mrs.
Budd and Biddy, which were extorted by the closer and closer
approach of the sharks, proclaimed the imminency of the danger they
ran, and the importance of not losing a moment of time.

Mulford took his distance with a seaman's eye, and the boat went
about like a top. The latter fell off, and the sail filled on the
other tack. Then the young mariner saw, with a joy no description
can pourtray, that he looked to windward of the fluttering shawl,
toward which his little craft was already flying. He afterward
believed that shawl alone prevented the voracious party of fish from
assailing those on the wreck, for, though there might not yet be
sufficient depth of water to allow of their customary mode of
attack, creatures of their voracity did not always wait for such
conveniences. But the boat was soon in the midst of the fins,
scattering them in all directions; and Mulford let go his sheet, put
his helm down, and sprang forward to catch the extended arms of
Rose.

It might have been accident, or it might have been the result of
skill and interest in our heroine, but certain it is, that the bows
of the boat came on the wreck precisely at the place where Rose
stood, and her hand was the first object that the young man touched.

"Take my aunt first," cried Rose, resisting Mulford's efforts to
lift her into the boat; "she is dreadfully alarmed, and can stand
with difficulty."

Although two of Rose's activity and lightness might have been drawn
into the boat, while the process was going on in behalf of the
widow, Mulford lost no time in discussion, but did as he was
desired. First directing Tier to hold on to the painter, he applied
his strength to the arms of Mrs. Budd, and, assisted by Rose and
Biddy, got her safely into the boat, over its bows. Rose now waited
not for assistance, but followed her aunt with a haste that proved
fear lent her strength in despite her long fast. Biddy came next,
though clumsily, and not without trouble, and Jack Tier followed the
instant he was permitted so to do. Of course, the boat, no longer
held by its painter, drifted away from the spot, and the hull of the
schooner, relieved from the weight of four human beings, rose so
near the surface again as to bring a small line of its keel out of
water. No better evidence could have been given of the trifling
power which sustained it, and of the timely nature of the succour
brought by Mulford. Had the boat remained near the schooner, it
would have been found half an hour later that the hull had sunk
slowly out of sight, finding its way, doubtless, inch by inch,
toward the bottom of the Gulf.

By this time the sun was well up, and the warmth of the hour,
season, and latitude, was shed on the sufferers. There was an old
sail in the boat, and in this the party dried their limbs and feet,
which were getting to be numb by their long immersion. Then the mate
produced the bag and opened it, in quest of bread. A small portion
was given to each, and, on looking farther, the mate discovered that
a piece of boiled ship's beef had been secreted in this receptacle.
Of this also he gave each a moderate slice, taking a larger portion
for himself, as requiring less precaution. The suffering of the
party from hunger was far less than that they endured from thirst.
Neither had been endured long enough seriously to enfeeble them or
render a full meal very dangerous, but the thirst had been much the
hardest to be borne. Of this fact Biddy soon gave audible evidence.

"The mate is good," she said, "and the bread tastes swate and
refreshing, but wather is a blessed thing. Can you no give us one
dhrap of the wather that falls from heaven, Mr. Mulford; for this
wather of the saa is of no use but to drown Christians in?"

In an instant the mate had opened a breaker, and filled the tin pot
which is almost always to be found in a boat. Biddy said no more,
but her eyes pleaded so eloquently, that Rose begged the faithful
creature might have the first drink. One eager swallow went down,
and then a cry of disappointment succeeded. The water was salt, and
had been put in the breaker for ballast. The other breaker was tried
with the same success.

"It is terrible to be without one drop of water," murmured Rose,
"and this food makes it more necessary than ever."

"Patience, patience, dearest Rose--patience for ten minutes, and you
shall all drink," answered the mate, filling the sail and keeping
the boat away while speaking. "There is water, God be praised, on
the rock to which I first swam, and we will secure it before another
day's sun help to make it evaporate."

This announcement quieted the longings of those who endured a thirst
which disappointment rendered doubly hard to bear; and away the boat
glided toward the rock. As he now flew over the distance, lessened
more than one-half by the drift of the wreck, Mulford recalled the
scene through which he had so painfully passed the previous night.
As often happens, he shuddered at the recollection of things which,
at the moment, a desperate resolution had enabled him to encounter
with firmness. Still, he thought nothing less than the ardent desire
to save Rose could have carried him through the trial with the
success which attended his struggles. The dear being at his side
asked a few explanations of what had passed; and she bowed her head
and wept, equally with pain and delight, as imagination pictured to
her the situation of her betrothed, amid that waste of water, with
his fearful companions, and all in the hours of deep night.

But that was over now. There was the rock--the blessed rock on which
Mulford had so accidentally struck, close before them--and presently
they were all on it. The mate took the pot and ran to the little
reservoir, returning with a sweet draught for each of the party.

"A blessed, blessed thing, is wather!" exclaimed Biddy, this time
finding the relief she sought, "and a thousand blessings on _you,_
Mr. Mulford, who have niver done us anything but good."

Rose looked a still higher eulogy on the young man, and even Mrs.
Budd had something commendatory and grateful to say. Jack Tier was
silent, but he had all his eyes about him, as he now proved.

"We've all on us been so much taken up with our own affairs,"
remarked the steward's assistant, "that we've taken but little
notice of the neighbourhood. If that is n't the brig, Mr. Mulford,
running through this very passage, with stun'sails set alow and
aloft, I do n't know the Molly Swash when I see her!"

"The brig!" exclaimed the mate, recollecting the vessels he had seen
at the break-of-day, for the first time in hours. "Can it be
possible that the craft I made out to the southward, is the brig?"

"Look, and judge for yourself, sir. There she comes, like a
race-horse, and if she holds her present course, she must pass
somewhere within a mile or so of us, if we stay where we are."

Mulford did look, as did all with him. There was the Swash, sure
enough, coming down before the wind, and under a cloud of canvas.
She might be still a league, or a league and a half distant, but, at
the rate at which she was travelling, that distance would soon be
past. She was running through the passage, no doubt with a view to
proceed to the Dry Tortugas, to look after the schooner, Spike
having the hope that he had dodged his pursuers on the coast of
Cuba. The mate now looked for the ship, in the north-western board,
believing, as he did, that she was the sloop-of-war. That vessel had
gone about, and was standing to the southward, on a taut bowline.
She was still a long way off, three or four leagues at least, but
the change she had made in her position, since last seen, proved
that she was a great sailer. Then she was more than hull down,
whereas, now, she was near enough to let the outline of a long,
straight fabric be discovered beneath her canvas.

"It is hardly possible that Spike should not see the vessel here in
the northern board," Mulford observed to Tier, who had been
examining the ship with him. "The lookout is usually good on board
the Swash, and, just now, should certainly be as good as common.
Spike is no dawdler with serious business before him."

"He's a willain!" muttered Jack Tier.

The mate regarded his companion with some surprise. Jack was a very
insignificant-looking personage in common, and one would scarcely
pause to give him a second look, unless it might be to laugh at his
rotundity and little waddling legs. But, now, the mate fancied he
was swelling with feelings that actually imparted somewhat more than
usual stature and dignity to his appearance. His face was full of
indignation, and there was something about the eye, that to Mulford
was inexplicable. As Rose, however, had related to him the scene
that took place on the islet, at the moment when Spike was
departing, the mate supposed that Jack still felt a portion of the
resentment that such a collision would be apt to create. From the
expression of Jack's countenance at that instant, it struck him
Spike might not be exactly safe, should accident put it in the power
of the former to do him an injury.

It was now necessary to decide on the course that ought to be
pursued. The bag contained sufficient food to last the party several
days, and a gallon of water still remained in the cavity of the
rock. This last was collected and put in one of the breakers, which
was emptied of the salt water in order to receive it. As water,
however, was the great necessity in that latitude, Mulford did not
deem it prudent to set sail with so small a supply, and he
accordingly commenced a search, on some of the adjacent rocks, Jack
Tier accompanying him. They succeeded in doubling their stock of
water, and collected several shell-fish, that the females found
exceedingly grateful and refreshing. On the score of hunger and
thirst, indeed, no one was now suffering. By judiciously sipping a
little water at a time, and retaining it in the mouth before
swallowing, the latter painful feeling had been gotten rid of; and
as for food, there was even more than was actually needed, and that
of a very good quality. It is probable that standing in the water
for hours, as Rose, and her aunt, and Biddy had been obliged to do,
had contributed to lessen the pain endured from thirst, though they
had all suffered a good deal from that cause, especially while the
sun shone.

Mulford and Tier were half an hour in obtaining the water. By the
end of that period the brigantine was so near as to render her hull
distinctly visible. It was high time to decide on their future
course. The sail had been brailed when the boat reached the rock,
and the boat itself lay on the side of the latter opposite to the
brig, and where no part of it could be seen to those on board the
Swash, with the exception of the mast. Under the circumstances,
therefore, Mulford thought it wisest to remain where they were, and
let the vessel pass, before they attempted to proceed toward Key
West, their intended place of refuge. In order to do this, however,
it was necessary to cause the whole party to lie down, in such a way
as to be hid by the inequalities in the rock, as it was now very
evident the brig would pass within half a mile of them. Hitherto, it
was not probable that they had been seen, and by using due caution,
the chances of Spike's overlooking them altogether amounted nearly
to certainty.

The necessary arrangements were soon made, the boat's masts
unstepped, the party placed behind their covers, and the females
comfortably bestowed in the spare sail, where they might got a
little undisturbed sleep after the dreadful night, or morning, they
had passed. Even Jack Tier lay down to catch his nap, as the most
useful manner of bestowing himself for a couple of hours; the time
Mulford had mentioned as the period of their stay where they were.

As for the mate, vigilance was his portion, and he took his
position, hid like all the rest, where he could watch the movements
of his old craft. In about twenty minutes, the brig was quite near;
so near that Mulford not only saw the people on board her, who
showed themselves in the rigging, but fancied he could recognise
their persons. As yet, nothing had occurred in the way of change,
but, just as the Swash got abreast of the rock, she began to take in
her studding-sails, and that hurriedly, as is apt to occur on board
a vessel in sudden emergencies. Our young man was a little alarmed
at first, believing that they might have been discovered, but he was
soon induced to think that the crew of the brigantine had just then
begun to suspect the character of the ship to the northward. That
vessel had been drawing near all this time, and was now only some
three leagues distant. Owing to the manner in which she headed, or
bows on, it was not a very easy matter to tell the character of this
stranger, though the symmetry and squareness of his yards rendered
it nearly certain he was a cruiser. Though Spike could not expect to
meet his old acquaintance here, after the chase he had so lately led
her, down on the opposite coast, he might and would have his
misgivings, and Mulford thought it was his intention to haul up
close round the northern angle of the reef, and maintain his
advantage of the wind, over the stranger. If this were actually
done, it might expose the boat to view, for the brig would pass
within a quarter of a mile of it, and on the side of the rock on
which it lay. It was too late, however, to attempt a change, since
the appearance of human beings in such a place would be certain to
draw the brig's glasses on them, and the glasses must at once let
Spike know who they were. It remained, therefore, only to await the
result as patiently as possible.

A very few minutes removed all doubt. The brig hauled as close round
the reef as she dared to venture, and in a very short time the boat
lay exposed to view to all on board her. The vessel was now so near
that Mulford plainly saw the boatswain get upon the coach-house, or
little hurricane-house deck, where Spike stood examining the ship
with his glass, and point out the boat, where it lay at the side of
the rock. In an instant, the glass was levelled at the spot, and the
movements on board the brig immediately betrayed to Mulford that the
boat was recognised. Sail was shortened on board the Swash, and men
were seen preparing to lower her stern boat, while everything
indicated that the vessel was about to be hove-to. There was no time
now to be lost, but the young man immediately gave the alarm.

No sooner did the party arise and show themselves, than the crew of
the Swash gave three cheers. By the aid of the glass, Spike
doubtless recognised their persons, and the fact was announced to
the men, by way of stimulating their exertions. This gave an
additional spur to the movements of those on the rock, who hastened
into their own boat, and made sail as soon as possible.

It was far easier to do all that has been described, than to
determine on the future course. Capture was certain if the fugitives
ventured into the open water, and their only hope was to remain on
the reef. If channels for the passage of the boat could be found,
escape was highly probable, as the schooner's boat could sail much
faster than the brig's boat could row, fast as Mulford knew the last
to be. But the experience of the morning had told the mate that the
rock rose too near the surface, in many places, for the boat, small
as it was, to pass over it; and he must trust a great deal to
chance. Away he went, however, standing along a narrow channel,
through which the wind just permitted him to lay, with the sail
occasionally shaking.

By this time the Swash had her boat in the water, manned with four
powerful oars, Spike steering it in his own person. Our young mate
placed Tier in the bows, to point out the deepest water, and kept
his sail a rap full, in order to get ahead as fast as possible.
Ahead he did get, but it was on a course that soon brought him out
in the open water of the main passage through the reef, leaving
Spike materially astern. The latter now rose in his boat, and made a
signal with his hat, which the boatswain perfectly understood. The
latter caused the brig to ware short round on her heel, and boarded
his foretack in chase, hauling up into the passage as soon as he
could again round the reef. Mulford soon saw that it would never do
for him to venture far from the rocks, the brig going two feet to
his one, though not looking quite as high as he did in the boat. But
the Swash had her guns, and it was probable they would be used
rather than he should escape. When distant two hundred yards from
the reef, therefore, he tacked. The new course brought the fugitives
nearly at right angles to that steered by Spike, who stood directly
on, as if conscious that, sooner or later, such a rencounter must
occur. It would seem that the tide was setting through the passage,
for when the boat of Mulford again reached the reef, it was
considerably to windward of the channel out of which she had issued,
and opposite to another which offered very opportunely for her
entrance. Into this new channel, then, the mate somewhat blindly
ran, feeling the necessity of getting out of gun-shot of the brig at
every hazard. She at least could not follow him among the rocks, let
Spike, in his boat, proceed as he might.

According to appearances, Spike was not likely to be very
successful. He was obliged to diverge from his course, in order to
go into the main passage at the very point where Mulford had just
before done the same thing, and pull along the reef to windward, in
order to get into the new channel, into which the boat he was
pursuing had just entered. This brought him not only astern again,
but a long bit astern, inasmuch as he was compelled to make the
circuit described. On he went, however, as eager in the chase as the
hound with his game in view.

Mulford's boat seemed to fly, and glided ahead at least three feet
to that of Spike's two. The direction of the channel it was in,
brought it pretty close to the wind, but the water was quite smooth,
and our mate managed to keep the sail full, and his little craft at
the same time quite near the weatherly side of the rocks. In the
course of ten minutes the fugitives were fully a mile from the brig,
which was unable to follow them, but kept standing off and on, in
the main passage, waiting the result. At one time Mulford thought
the channel would bring him out into open water again, on the
northern side of the reef, and more than a mile to the eastward of
the point where the ship-channel in which the Swash was plying
commenced; but an accidental circumstance prevented his standing in
far enough to ascertain the fact. That circumstance was as follows:

In running a mile and a half over the reef, in the manner described,
Mulford had left the boat of Spike quite half a mile astern. He was
now out of gun-shot from the brig, or at least beyond the range of
her grape, the only missile he feared, and so far to windward that
he kept his eye on every opening to the southward, which he fancied
might allow of his making a stretch deeper into the mazes of the
reef, among which he believed it easiest for him to escape, and to
weary the oarsmen of his pursuers. Two or three of these openings
offered as he glided along, but it struck him that they all looked
so high that the boat would not lay through them--an opinion in
which he was right. At length he came abreast of one that seemed
straight and clear of obstacles as far as he could see, and through
which he might run with a flowing sheet. Down went his helm, and
about went his boat, running away to the southward as fast as ever.

Had Spike followed, doubled the same shoal, and kept away again in
the same channel as had been done by the boat he chased, all his
hopes of success must have vanished at once. This he did not
attempt, therefore; but, sheering into one of the openings which the
mate had rejected, he cut off quite half a mile in his distance.
This was easy enough for him to accomplish, as a row-boat would pull
even easier, near to the wind, than with the wind broad on its bow.
In consequence of this short cut, therefore, Spike was actually
crossing out into Mulford's new channel, just as the latter had
handsomely cleared the mouth of the opening through which he
effected his purpose.

It is scarcely necessary to say that the two boats must have been
for a few minutes quite near to each other; so near, indeed, did the
fugitives now pass to their pursuers, that it would have been easy
for them to have conversed, had they been so disposed. Not a word
was spoken, however, but Mulford went by, leaving Spike about a
hundred yards astern. This was a trying moment to the latter, and
the devil tempted him to seek his revenge. He had not come unarmed
on his enterprise, but three or four loaded muskets lay in the
stern-sheets of his yawl. He looked at his men, and saw that they
could not hold out much longer to pull as they had been pulling.
Then he looked at Mulford's boat, and saw it gliding away from him
at a rate that would shortly place it another half mile in advance.
He seized a musket, and raised it to his shoulder, nay, was in the
act of taking aim at his mate, when Rose, who watched his movements,
threw herself before Harry, and if she did not actually save his
life, at least prevented Spike's attempt on it for that occasion. In
the course of the next ten minutes the fugitives had again so far
gained on their pursuers, that the latter began to see that their
efforts were useless. Spike muttered a few bitter curses, and told
his men to lay on their oars.

"It's well for the runaway," he added, "that the gal put herself
between us, else would his grog have been stopped for ever. I've
long suspected this; but had I been sure of it, the Gulf Stream
would have had the keeping of his body, the first dark night we were
in it together. Lay on your oars, men, lay on your oars; I'm afeared
the villian will get through our fingers, a'ter all."

The men obeyed, and then, for the first time, did they turn their
heads, to look at those they had been so vehemently pursuing. The
other boat was quite half a mile from them, and it had again tacked.
This last occurrence induced Spike to pull slowly ahead, in quest of
another short passage to cut the fugitives off; but no such opening
offered.

"There he goes about again, by George!" exclaimed Spike. "Give way,
lads--give way; an easy stroke, for if he is embayed, he can't
escape us!"

Sure enough, poor Mulford _was_ embayed, and could see no outlet by
which to pass ahead. He tacked his boat two or three times, and he
wore round as often; but on every side shoals, or rocks that
actually rose above the surface of the water, impeded his course.
The fact was not to be concealed; after all his efforts, and so many
promises of success, not only was his further progress ahead cut
off, but equally so was retreat. The passage was not wide enough to
admit the hope of getting by his pursuers, and the young man came to
the conclusion that his better course was to submit with dignity to
his fate. For himself he had no hope--he knew Spike's character too
well for that; but he did not apprehend any great immediate danger
to his companions. Spike had a coarse, brutal admiration for Rose!
but her expected fortune, which was believed to be of more amount
than was actually the case, was a sort of pledge that he would not
willingly put himself in a situation that would prevent the
possibility of enjoying it. Strange, hurried, and somewhat confused
thoughts passed through Harry Mulford's mind, as he brailed his
sail, and waited for his captors to approach and take possession of
his boat and himself. This was done quietly, and with very few words
on the part of Spike.

Mulford would have liked the appearance of things better had his old
commander cursed him, and betrayed other signs of the fury that was
boiling in his very soul. On the contrary, never had Stephen Spike
seemed more calm, or under better self-command. He smiled, and
saluted Mrs. Budd, just as if nothing unpleasant had occurred, and
alluded to the sharpness of the chase with facetiousness and seeming
good-humour. The females were deceived by this manner, and hoped,
after all, that the worst that would happen would be a return to
their old position on board the Swash. This was being so much better
off than their horrible situation on the wreck, that the change was
not frightful to them.

"What has become of the schooner, Mr. Mulford?" asked Spike, as the
boats began to pass down the channel to return to the brig--two of
the Swash's men taking their seats in that which had been captured,
along with their commander, while the other two got a tow from the
use of the sail. "I see you have the boat here that we used
alongside of her, and suppose you know something of the craft
itself."

"She capsized with us in a squall," answered the mate, "and we only
left the wreck this morning."

"Capsized!--hum--that was a hard fate, to be sure, and denotes bad
seamanship. Now I've sailed all sorts of craft these forty years, or
five-and-thirty at least, and never cap-sized anything in my life.
Stand by there for'ard to hold on by that rock."

A solitary cap of the coral rose above the water two or three feet,
close to the channel, and was the rock to which Spike alluded. It
was only some fifty feet in diameter, and of an oval form, rising
quite above the ordinary tides, as was apparent by its appearance.
It is scarcely necessary to say it had no other fresh water than
that which occasionally fell on its surface, which surface being
quite smooth, retained very little of the rain it received. The boat
was soon alongside of this rock, where it was held broadside-to by
the two seamen.

"Mr. Mulford, do me the favour to step up here," said Spike, leading
the way on to the rock himself. "I have a word to say to you before
we get on board the old Molly once more."

Mulford silently complied, fully expecting that Spike intended to
blow his brains out, and willing the bloody deed should be done in a
way to be as little shocking to Rose as circumstances would allow.
But Spike manifested no such intention. A more refined cruelty was
uppermost in his mind; and his revenge was calculated, and took care
to fortify itself with some of the quibbles and artifices of the
law. He might not be exactly right in his legal reservations, but he
did not the less rely on their virtue.

"Hark'e, Mr. Mulford," said Spike, sharply, as soon as both were on
the rock, "you have run from my brig, thereby showing your distaste
for her; and I've no disposition to keep a man who wishes to quit
me. Here you are, sir, on _terrum firm,_ as the scholars call it;
and here you have my full permission to remain. I wish you a good
morning, sir; and will not fail to report, when we get in, that you
left the brig of your own pleasure."

"You will not have the cruelty to abandon me on this naked rock,
Captain Spike, and that without a morsel of food, or a drop of
water."

"Wather is a blessed thing!" exclaimed Biddy. "Do not think of
lavin' the gentleman widout wather."

"You left _me,_ sir, without food or water, and you can fit out your
own rock--yes, d--e, sir, you left me _under fire,_ and that is a
thing no true-hearted man would have thought of. Stand by to make
sail, boys; and if he offer to enter the boat, pitch him out with
the boat-hooks."

Spike was getting angry, and he entered the boat again, without
perceiving that Rose had left it. Light of foot, and resolute of
spirit, the beautiful girl, handsomer than ever perhaps, by her
excited feelings and dishevelled hair, had sprung on the rock, as
Spike stepped into the boat forward, and when the latter turned
round, after loosening the sail, he found he was drifting away from
the very being who was the object of all his efforts. Mulford,
believing that Rose was to be abandoned as well as himself, received
the noble girl in his arms, though ready to implore Spike, on his
knees, to return and at least to take her off. But Spike wanted no
solicitation on that point. He returned of his own accord, and had
just reached the rock again when a report of a gun drew all eyes
toward the brig.

The Swash had again run out of the passage, and was beating up,
close to the reef as she dared to go, with a signal flying. All the
seamen at once understood the cause of this hint. The strange sail
was getting too near, and everybody could see that it was the
sloop-of-war. Spike looked at Rose, a moment, in doubt. But Mulford
raised his beloved in his arms, and carried her to the side of the
rock, stepping on board the boat.

Spike watched the movements of the young man with jealous vigilance,
and no sooner was Rose placed on her seat, than he motioned
significantly to the mate to quit the boat.

"I cannot and will not voluntarily, Captain Spike," answered Harry,
calmly. "It would be committing a sort of suicide."

A sign brought two of the men to the captain's assistance. While the
latter held Rose in her place, the sailors shoved Harry on the rock
again. Had Mulford been disposed to resist, these two men could not
very easily have ejected him from the boat, if they could have done
it at all; but he knew there were others in reserve, and feared that
blood might be shed, in the irritated state of Spike, in the
presence of Rose. While, therefore, he would not be accessary to his
own destruction, he would not engage in what he knew would prove not
only a most harassing, but a bootless resistance. The consequence
was that the boats proceeded, leaving him alone on the rock.

It was perhaps fortunate for Rose that she fainted. Her condition
occupied her aunt and Biddy, and Spike was enabled to reach his brig
without any further interruption. Rose was taken on board still
nearly insensible, while her two female companions were so much
confused and distressed, that neither could have given a reasonably
clear account of what had just occurred. Not so with Jack Tier,
however. That singular being noted all that passed, seated in the
eyes of the boat, away from the confusion that prevailed in its
stern-sheets, and apparently undisturbed by it.

As the party was sailing back toward the brig, the lighthouse boat
towing the Swash's yawl, Jack took as good an observation of the
channels of that part of the reef as his low position would allow.
He tried to form in his mind a sort of chart of the spot, for, from
the instant Mulford was thus deserted, the little fellow had formed
a stern resolution to attempt his rescue. How that was to be done,
however, was more than he yet knew; and when they reached the brig's
side, Tier may be said to have been filled with good intentions,
rather than with any very available knowledge to enable him to put
them in execution.

As respects the two vessels, the arrival of Spike on board his own
was not a moment too soon. The Poughkeepsie, for the stranger to the
northward was now ascertained to be that sloop-of-war, was within
long gun-shot by this time, and near enough to make certain, by
means of her glasses, of the character of the craft with which she
was closing. Luckily for the brig she lay in the channel so often
mentioned, and through which both she and her present pursuer had so
lately come, on their way to the northward. This brought her to
windward, as the wind then stood, with a clear passage before her.
Not a moment was lost. No sooner were the females sent below, than
sail was made on the brig, and she began to beat through the
passage, making long legs and short ones. She was chased, as a
matter of course, and that hard, the difference in sailing between
the two crafts not being sufficiently great to render the
brigantine's escape by any means certain, while absolutely within
the range of those terrible missiles that were used by the
man-of-war's men.

But Spike soon determined not to leave a point so delicate as that
of his own and his vessel's security to be decided by a mere
superiority in the way of heels. The Florida Reef, with all its
dangers, windings, and rocks, was as well known to him as the
entrances to the port of New York. In addition to its larger
channels, of which there are three or four, through which ships of
size can pass, it had many others that would admit only vessels of a
lighter draught of water. The brig was not flying light, it is true,
but she was merely in good ballast trim, and passages would be
available to her, into which the Poughkeepsie would not dare to
venture. One of these lesser channels was favourably placed to
further the escape of Spike, and he shoved the brig into it after
the struggle had lasted less than an hour. This passage offered a
shorter cut to the south side of the reef than the main channel, and
the sloop-of-war, doubtless perceiving the uselessness of pursuit,
under such circumstances, wore round on her heel, and came down
through the main channel again, just entering the open water, near
the spot where the schooner had sunk, as the sun was setting.