But no--he surely is not dreaming.
Another minute makes it clear,
A scream, a rush, a burning tear,
From Inez' cheek, dispel the fear
That bliss like his is only seeming.
Washington Alston.
A moment of appalled surprise succeeded the instant when Harry and
Rose first ascertained the real character of the vessel that had
entered the haven of the Dry Tortugas. Then the first turned toward
Jack Tier, and sternly demanded an explanation of his apparent
faithlessness.
"Rascal," he cried, "has this treachery been intended? Did you not
see the brig and know her?"
"Hush, Harry--_dear_ Harry," exclaimed Rose, entreatingly. "My life
for it, Jack has _not_ been faithless."
"Why, then, has he not let us know that the brig was coming? For
more than an hour has he been aloft, on the look-out, and here are
we taken quite by surprise. Rely on it, Rose, he has seen the
approach of the brig, and might have sooner put us on our guard."
"Ay, ay, lay it on, maty," said Jack, coolly, neither angry nor
mortified, so far as appearances went, at these expressions of
dissatisfaction; "my back is used to it. If I did n't know what it
is to get hard raps on the knuckles, I should be but a young
steward. But, as for this business, a little reflection will tell
you I am not to blame."
"Give us your own explanations, for without them I shall trust you
no longer."
"Well, sir, what good would it have done, _had_ I told you the brig
was standing for this place? There she came down, like a race-horse,
and escape for you was impossible. As the wind is now blowin', the
Molly would go two feet to the boat's one, and a chase would have
been madness."
"I do n't know that, sirrah" answered the mate." The boat might have
got into the smaller passages of the reef, where the brig could not
enter, or she might have dodged about among these islets, until it
was night, and then escaped in the darkness."
"I thought of all that, Mr. Mulford, but it came too late. When I
first went aloft, I came out on the north-west side of the lantern,
and took my seat, to look out for the sloop-of-war, as you bade me,
sir. Well, there I was sweepin' the horizon with the glass for the
better part of an hour, sometimes fancyin' I saw her, and then
givin' it up; for to this moment I am not sartain there is n't a
sail off here to the westward, turning up toward the light on a
bowline; but if there be, she's too far off to know anything
partic'lar about her. Well, sir, there I sat, looking for the
Poughkeepsie, for the better part of an hour, when I thought I would
go round on t' other side of the lantern and take a look to
windward. My heart was in my mouth, I can tell you, Miss Rose, when
I saw the brig; and I felt both glad and sorry. Glad on my own
account, and sorry on your'n. There she was, however, and no help
for it, within two miles of this very spot, and coming down as if
she despised touching the water at all. Now, what could I do? There
was n't time, Mr. Mulford, to get the boat out, and the mast
stepped, afore we should have been within reach of canister, and
Stephen Spike would not have spared _that,_ in order to get you
again within his power."
"Depend on it, Harry, this is all true," said Rose, earnestly. "I
know Jack well, and can answer for his fidelity. He wishes to, and
if he can he _will_ return to the brig, whither he thinks his duty
calls him, but he will never willingly betray _us_--least of all,
_me_. Do I speak as I ought, Jack?"
"Gospel truth, Miss Rose, and Mr. Mulford will get over this squall,
as soon as he comes to think of matters as he ought. There 's my
hand, maty, to show I bear no malice."
"I take it, Jack, for I must believe you honest, after all you have
done for us. Excuse my warmth, which, if a little unreasonable, was
somewhat natural under the circumstances. I suppose our case is now
hopeless, and that we shall all be soon on board the brig again; for
Spike will hardly think of abandoning me again on an island
provisioned and fitted as is this!"
"It's not so sartain, sir, that you fall into his hands at all," put
in Jack. "The men of the brig will never come here of their own
accord, depend on that, for sailors don't like graves. Spike has
come in here a'ter the schooner's chain, that he dropped into the
water when he made sail from the sloop-of-war, at the time he was
here afore, and is not expectin' to find us here. No--no--he thinks
we are beatin' up toward Key West this very minute, if, indeed, he
has missed us at all. 'T is possible he believes the boat has got
adrift by accident, and has no thought of our bein' out of the
brig."
"That is impossible, Jack. Do you suppose he is ignorant that Rose
is missing?"
"Sartain of it, maty, if Mrs. Budd has read the letter well that
Miss Rose left for her, and Biddy has obeyed orders. If they've
followed instructions, Miss Rose is thought to be in her state-room,
mournin' for a young man who was abandoned on a naked rock, and Jack
Tier, havin' eat somethin' that has disagreed with him, is in his
berth. Recollect, Spike will not be apt to look into Miss Rose's
state-room or my berth, to see if all this is true. The cook and
Josh are both in my secret, and know I mean to come back, and when
the fit is over I have only to return to duty, like any other hand.
It is my calculation that Spike believes both Miss Rose and myself
on board the Molly at this very moment."
"And the boat--what can he suppose has become of the boat?"
"Sartainly, the boat makes the only chance ag'in us. But the boat
was ridin' by its painter astarn, and accidents sometimes happen to
such craft. Then we two are the wery last he will suspect of havin'
made off in the boat by ourselves. There'll be Mrs. Budd and Biddy
as a sort of pledge that Miss Rose is aboard, and as for Jack Tier,
he is too insignificant to occupy the captain's thoughts just now.
He will probably muster the people for'ard, when he finds the boat
is gone, but I do not think he'll trouble the cabins or
state-rooms."
Mulford admitted that this was _possible,_ though it scarcely seemed
probable to him. There was no help, however, for the actual state of
things, and they all now turned their attention to the brig, and to
the movements of those on board her. Jack Tier had swung-to the
outer-door of the house, as soon as the Swash came in view through
it, and fortunately none of the windows on that side of the building
had been opened at all. The air entered to windward, which was on
the rear of the dwelling, so that it was possible to be comfortable
and yet leave the front, in view from the vessel, with its deserted
air. As for the brig, she had already anchored and got both her
boats into the water. The yawl was hauled alongside, in readiness
for any service that might be required of it, while the launch had
been manned at once, and was already weighing the anchor, and
securing the chain to which Tier had alluded. All this served very
much to lessen the uneasiness of Mulford and Rose, as it went far to
prove that Spike had not come to the Dry Tortugas in quest of them,
as, at first, both had very naturally supposed. It might, indeed,
turn out that his sole object was to obtain this anchor and chain,
with a view to use them in raising the ill-fated vessel that had now
twice gone to the bottom.
"I wish an explanation with you, Jack, on one other point," said the
mate, after all three had been for sometime observing the movements
on board and around the Swash. "Do you actually intend to get on
board the brig?"
"If it's to be done, maty. My v'y'ge is up with you and Miss Rose. I
may be said to have shipped for Key West and a market, and the
market's found at this port."
"You will hardly leave us _yet,_ Jack," said Rose, with a manner and
emphasis that did not fail to strike her betrothed lover, though he
could in no way account for either. That Rose should not wish to be
left alone with him in that solitary place was natural enough; or,
might rather be referred to education and the peculiar notions of
her sex; but he could not understand why so much importance should
be attached to the presence of a being of Jack Tier's mould and
character. It was true, that there was little choice, under present
circumstances, but it occurred to Mulford that Rose had manifested
the same strange predilection when there might have been something
nearer to a selection. The moment, however, was not one for much
reflection on the subject.
"You will hardly leave us yet, Jack?" said Rose, in the manner
related.
"it's now or never, Miss Rose. If the brig once gets away from this
anchorage without me, I may never lay eyes on her ag'in. Her time is
nearly up, for wood and iron wont hold together always, any more
than flesh and blood. Consider how many years I've been busy in
huntin' her up, and how hard 't will be to lose that which has given
me so many weary days and sleepless nights to find."
Rose said no more. If not convinced, she was evidently silenced,
while Harry was left to wonder and surmise, as best he might. Both
quitted the subject, to watch the people of the brig. By this time
the anchor had been lifted, and the chain was heaving in on board
the vessel, by means of a line that had been got around its bight.
The work went on rapidly, and Mulford observed to Rose that he did
not think it was the intention of Spike to remain long at the
Tortugas, inasmuch as his brig was riding by a very short range of
cable. This opinion was confirmed, half an hour later, when it was
seen that the launch was hooked on and hoisted in again, as soon as
the chain and anchor of the schooner were secured.
Jack Tier watched every movement with palpable uneasiness. His
apprehensions that Spike would obtain all he wanted, and be off
before he could rejoin him, increased at each instant, and he did
not scruple to announce an intention to take the boat and go
alongside of the Swash at every hazard, rather than be left.
"You do not reflect on what you say, Jack," answered Harry; "unless,
indeed, it be your intention to betray us. How could you appear in
the boat, at this place, without letting it be known that we must be
hard by?"
"That don't follow at all, maty," answered Jack. "Suppose I go
alongside the brig and own to the captain that I took the boat last
night, with the hope of findin' you, and that failin' to succeed, I
bore up for this port, to look for provisions and water. Miss Rose
he thinks on board at this moment, and in my judgment he would take
me at my word, give me a good cursing, and think no more about it."
"It would never do, Jack," interposed Rose, instantly. "It would
cause the destruction of Harry, as Spike would not believe you had
not found him, without an examination of this house."
"What are they about with the yawl, Mr. Mulford?" asked Jack, whose
eye was never off the vessel for a single moment. "It's gettin' to
be so dark that one can hardly see the boat, but it seems as if
they're about to man the yawl."
"They are, and there goes a lantern into it. And that is Spike
himself coming down the brig's side this instant."
"They can only bring a lantern to search this house," exclaimed
Rose. "Oh! Harry, you are lost!"
"I rather think the lantern is for the light-house," answered
Mulford, whose coolness, at what was certainly a most trying moment,
did not desert him. "Spike may wish to keep the light burning, for
once before, you will remember, he had it kindled after the keeper
was removed. As for his sailing, he would not be apt to sail until
the moon rises; and in beating back to the wreck the light may serve
to let him know the bearings and position of the reef."
"There they come," whispered Rose, half breathless with alarm. "The
boat has left the brig, and is coming directly hither!"
All this was true enough. The yawl had shoved off, and with two men
to row it, was pulling for the wharf in front of the house, and
among the timbers of which lay the boat, pretty well concealed
beneath a sort of bridge. Mulford would not retreat, though he
looked to the fastenings of the door as a means of increasing his
chances of defence. In the stern-sheets of the boat sat two men,
though it was not easy to ascertain who they were by the fading
light. One was known to be Spike, however, and the other, it was
conjectured, must be Don Juan Montefalderon, from the circumstance
of his being in the place of honour. Three minutes solved this
question, the boat reaching the wharf by that time. It was instantly
secured, and all four of the men left it. Spike was now plainly to
be discerned by means of the lantern which he carried in his own
hands, He gave some orders, in his customary authoritative way, and
in a high key, after which he led the way from the wharf, walking
side by side with the Señor Montefalderon. These two last came up
within a yard of the door of the house, where they paused, enabling
those within not only to see their persons and the working of their
countenances, but to hear all that was said; this last the more
especially, since Spike never thought it necessary to keep his
powerful voice within moderate limits.
"It's hardly worth while, Don Wan, for you to go into the
light-house," said Spike. "'T is but a greasy, dirty place at the
best, and one's clothes are never the better for dealin' with ile.
Here, Bill, take the lantern, and get a filled can, that we may go
up and trim and fill the lamp, and make a blaze. Bear a hand, lads,
and I'll be a'ter ye afore you reach the lantern. Be careful with
the flame about the ile, for seamen ought never to wish to see a
lighthouse destroyed."
"What do you expect to gain by lighting the lamps above, Don
Esteban?" demanded the Mexican, when the sailors had disappeared in
the light-house, taking their own lantern with them.
"It's wisest to keep things reg'lar about this spot, Don Wan, which
will prevent unnecessary suspicions. But, as the brig stretches in
toward the reef to-night, on our way back, the light will be a great
assistance. I am short of officers, you know, and want all the help
of this sort I can get."
"To be sincere with you, Don Esteban, I greatly regret you _are_ so
short of officers, and do not yet despair of inducing you to go and
take off the mate, whom I hear you have left on a barren rock. He
was a fine young fellow, Señor Spike, and the deed was not one that
you will wish to remember a few years hence."
"The fellow run, and I took him at his word, Don Wan. I'm not
obliged to receive back a deserter unless it suits me."
"We are all obliged to see we do not cause a fellow creature the
loss of life. This will prove the death of the charming young woman
who is so much attached to him, unless you relent and are merciful!"
"Women have tender looks but tough hearts," answered Spike,
carelessly, though Mulford felt certain, by the tone of his voice,
that great bitterness of feeling lay smothered beneath the affected
indifference of his manner; "few die of love."
"The young lady has not been on deck all day; and the Irish woman
tells me that she does nothing but drink water--the certain proof of
a high fever."
"Ay, ay, she keeps her room if you will, Don Wan, but she is not
about to make a dupe of me by any such tricks. I must go and look to
the lamps, however, and you will find the graves you seek in the
rear of this house, about thirty yards behind it, you'll remember.
That's a very pretty cross you've made, señor, and the skipper of
the schooner's soul will be all the better for settin' it up at the
head of his grave."
"It will serve to let those who come after us know that a Christian
sleeps beneath the sand, Don Esteban," answered the Mexican, mildly.
"I have no other expectation from this sacred symbol."
The two now separated, Spike going into the light-house, little in a
hurry, while Don Juan Montefalderon walked round the building to its
rear in quest of the grave. Mulford waited a moment for Spike to get
a short distance up the stairs of the high tower he had to ascend,
when placing the arm of Rose within his own, he opened the door in
the rear of the house, and walked boldly toward the Mexican. Don
Juan was actually forcing the pointed end of his little cross into
the sand, at the head of his countryman's grave, when Mulford and
his trembling companion reached the spot. Although night had shut
in, it was not so dark that persons could not be recognised at small
distances. The Señor Montefalderon was startled at an apparition so
sudden and unexpected, when Mulford saluted him by name; but
recognising first the voice of Harry, and then the persons of
himself and his companion, surprise, rather than alarm, became the
emotion that was uppermost. Notwithstanding the strength of the
first of these feelings, he instantly saluted the young couple with
the polished ease that marked his manner, which had much of the
courtesy of a Castilian in it, tempered a little, perhaps, by the
greater flexibility of a Southern American.
"I _see_ you," exclaimed Don Juan, "and must believe my eyes.
Without their evidence, however, I could scarce believe it can be
you two, one of whom I thought on board the brig, and the other
suffering a most miserable death on a naked rock."
"I am aware of your kind feelings in our behalf, Don Juan," said
Mulford, "and it is the reason I now confide in you. I was taken off
that rock by means of the boat, which you doubtless have missed; and
this is the gentle being who has been the means of saving my life.
To her and Jack Tier, who is yonder, under the shadows of the house,
I owe my not being the victim of Spike's cruelty."
"I now comprehend the whole matter, Don Henriquez. Jack Tier has
managed the boat for the señorita; and those whom we were told were
too ill to be seen on deck, have been really out of the brig!"
"Such are the facts, señor, and from _you_ there is no wish to
conceal them. We are then to understand that the absence of Rose and
Jack from the brig is not known to Spike."
"I believe not, señor. He has alluded to both, once or twice to-day,
as being ill below; but would you not do well to retire within the
shade of the dwelling, lest a glance from the lantern might let
those in it know that I am not alone."
"There is little danger, Don Juan, as they who stand near a light
cannot well see those who are in the darkness. Beside, they are high
in the air, while we are on the ground, which will greatly add to
the obscurity down here. We can retire, nevertheless, as I have a
few questions to ask, which may as well be put in perfect security,
as put where there is any risk."
The three now drew near the house, Rose actually stepping within its
door, though Harry remained on its exterior, in order to watch the
proceedings of those in the light-house. Here the Señor
Montefalderon entered into a more detailed explanation of what had
occurred on board the brig, since the appearance of day, that very
morning. According to his account of the matter, Spike had
immediately called upon the people to explain the loss of the boat.
Tier was not interrogated on this occasion, it being understood he
had gone below and turned in, after having the look-out for fully
half the night. As no one could, or would, give an account of the
manner in which the boat was missing, Josh was ordered to go below
and question Jack on the subject. Whether it was from consciousness
of his connection with the escape of Jack, and apprehensions of the
consequences, or from innate good-nature, and a desire to befriend
the lovers, this black now admitted that Jack confessed to him that
the boat had got away from him while endeavouring to shift the turns
of its painter from a cleet where they ought not to be, to their
proper place. This occurred early in Jack's watch, according to
Josh's story, and had not been reported, as the boat did not
properly belong to the brig, and was an incumbrance rather than an
advantage. The mate admired the negro's cunning, as Don Juan related
this part of his story, which put him in a situation to throw all
the blame on Jack's mendacity in the event of a discovery, while it
had the effect to allow the fugitives more time for their escape.
The result was, that Spike bestowed a few hearty curses, as usual,
on the clumsiness of Jack Tier, and seemed to forget all about the
matter. It is probable he connected Jack's abstaining from showing
himself on deck, and his alleged indisposition, with his supposed
delinquency in this matter of the boat. From that moment the captain
appeared to give himself no further concern on the subject, the boat
having been, in truth, an incumbrance rather than a benefit, as
stated.
As for Rose, her keeping her room, under the circumstances, was so
very natural, that the Señor Montefalderon had been completely
deceived, as, from his tranquillity on this point, there was no
question was the case with Spike also. Biddy appeared on deck,
though the widow did not, and the Irish woman shook her head
anxiously when questioned about her young mistress, giving the
spectators reason to suppose that the latter was in a very bad way.
As respects the brig and her movements, Spike had got under way as
soon as there was light enough to find his course, and had run
through the passage. It is probable that the boat was seen; for
something that was taken for a small sail had just been made out for
a single instant, and then became lost again. This little sail was
made, if made at all, in the direction of the Dry Tortugas, but so
completely was all suspicion at rest in the minds of those on the
quarter-deck of the Swash, that neither Spike nor the Mexican had
the least idea what it was. When the circumstance was reported to
the former, he answered that it was probably some small wrecker, of
which many were hovering about the reef, and added, laughingly,
though in a way to prove how little he thought seriously on the
subject at all, "who knows but the light-house boat has fallen into
their hands, and that they've made sail on _her;_ if they have, my
word for it, that she goes, hull, spars, rigging, canvas, and cargo,
all in a lump, for salvage."
As the brig came out of the passage, in broad day, the heads of the
schooner's masts were seen, as a matter of course. This induced
Spike to heave-to, lower a boat, and to go in person to examine the
condition of the wreck. It will be seen that Jack's presence could
now be all the better dispensed with. The examination, with the
soundings, and other calculations connected with raising the vessel,
occupied hours. When they were completed, Spike returned on board,
run up his boat, and squared away for the Dry Tortugas. Señor
Montefalderon confirmed the justice of Jack Tier's surmises, as to
the object of this unexpected visit. The brig had come solely for
the chain and anchor mentioned, and having secured them, it was
Spike's intention to get under way and beat up to the wreck again as
soon as the moon rose. As for the sloop-of-war, he believed she had
given him up; for by this time she must know that she had no chance
with the brig, so long as the latter kept near the reef, and that
she ran the constant hazard of shipwreck, while playing so near the
dangers herself.
Before the Señor Montefalderon exhausted all he had to communicate,
he was interrupted by Jack Tier with a singular proposition. Jack's
great desire was to get on board the Swash; and he now begged the
Mexican to let Mulford take the yawl and scull him off to the brig,
and return to the islet before Spike and his companions should
descend from the lantern of the light-house. The little fellow
insisted there was sufficient time for such a purpose, as the three
in the lantern had not yet succeeded in filling the lamps with the
oil necessary to their burning for a night--a duty that usually
occupied the regular keeper for an hour. Five or six minutes would
suffice for him; and if he were seen going up the brig's side, it
would be easy for him to maintain that he had come ashore in the
boat. No one took such precise note of what was going on; as to be
able to contradict him; and as to Spike and the men with him, they
would probably never hear anything about it.
Don Juan Montefalderon was struck with the boldness of Jack Tier's
plan, but refused his assent to it. He deemed it too hazardous, but
substituted a project of his own. The moon would not rise until near
eleven, and it wanted several hours before the time of sailing. When
they returned to the brig, he would procure his cloak, and scull
himself ashore, being perfectly used to managing a boat in this way,
under the pretence of wishing to pass an hour longer near the grave
of his countryman. At the expiration of that hour he would take Jack
off, concealed beneath his cloak--an exploit of no great difficulty
in the darkness, especially as no one would be on deck but a hand or
two keeping the anchor-watch. With this arrangement, therefore, Jack
Tier was obliged to be content.
Some fifteen or twenty minutes more passed; during which the Mexican
again alluded to his country, and his regrets at her deplorable
situation. The battles of the 8th and 9th of May; two combats that
ought to, and which will reflect high honour on the little army that
won them, as well as on that hardly worked, and in some respects
hardly used, service to which they belong, had been just fought. Don
Juan mentioned these events without reserve; and frankly admitted
that success had fallen to the portion of much the weaker party. He
ascribed the victory to the great superiority of the American
officers of inferior rank; it being well known that in the service
of the "Republic of the North," as he termed America, men who had
been regularly educated at the military academy, and who had reached
the period of middle life, were serving in the stations of captains,
and sometimes in that of lieutenants; men who, in many cases, were
fitted to command regiments and brigades, having been kept in these
lower stations by the tardiness with which promotion comes in an
army like that of this country.
Don Juan Montefalderon was not sufficiently conversant with the
subject, perhaps, else he might have added, that when occasions _do_
offer to bestow on these gentlemen the preferment they have so
hardly and patiently earned, they are too often neglected, in order
to extend the circle of vulgar political patronage. He did not know
that when a new regiment of dragoons was raised, one permanent in
its character, and intended to be identified with the army in all
future time, that, instead of giving its commissions to those who
had fairly earned them by long privations and faithful service, they
were given, with one or two exceptions, to strangers.
No government trifles more with its army and navy than our own. So
niggardly are the master-spirits at Washington of the honours justly
earned by military men, that we have fleets still commanded by
captains, and armies by officers whose regular duty it would be to
command brigades. The world is edified with the sight of forces
sufficient, in numbers, and every other military requisite, to make
one of Napoleon's _corps de armée,_ led by one whose commission
would place him properly at the head of a brigade, and nobly led,
too. Here, when so favourable an occasion offers to add a regiment
or two to the old permanent line of the army, and thus infuse new
life into its hope deferred, the opportunity is overlooked, and the
rank and file are to be obtained by cramming, instead of by a
generous regard to the interests of the gallant gentlemen who have
done so much for the honour of the American name, and, unhappily, so
little for themselves. The extra-patriots of the nation, and they
form a legion large enough to trample the "Halls of the Montezumas"
under their feet, tell us that the reward of those other patriots
beneath the shadows of the Sierra Madre, is to be in the love and
approbation of their fellow citizens, at the very moment when they
are giving the palpable proof of the value of this esteem, and of
the inconstancy of popular applause, by pointing their fingers, on
account of an inadvertent expression in a letter, at the gallant
soldier who taught, in our own times, the troops of this country to
stand up to the best appointed regiments of England, and to carry
off victory from the pride of Europe, in fair field-fights. Alas!
alas! it is true of nations as well as of men, in their simplest and
earliest forms of association, that there are "secrets in all
families;" and it will no more do to dwell on our own, than it would
edify us to expose those of poor Mexico.
The discourse between the Señor Montefalderon and Mulford was
interesting, as it ever has been when the former spoke of his
unfortunate country. On the subject of the battles of May he was
candid, and admitted his deep mortification and regrets. He had
expected more from the force collected on the Rio Grande, though,
understanding the northern character better than most of his
countrymen, he had not been as much taken by surprise as the great
bulk of his own nation.
"Nevertheless, Don Henrique," he concluded, for the voice of Spike
was just then heard as he was descending the stairs of the
light-house, "nevertheless, Don Henrique, there is one thing that
your people, brave, energetic, and powerful as I acknowledge them to
be, would do well to remember, and it is this--no nation of the
numbers of ours can be, or ever was conquered, unless by the force
of political combinations. In a certain state of society a
government may be overturned, or a capital taken, and carry a whole
country along with it, but our condition is one not likely to bring
about such a result. We are of a race different from the
Anglo-Saxon, and it will not be easy either to assimilate us to your
own, or wholly to subdue us. In those parts of the country, where
the population is small, in time, no doubt, the Spanish race might
be absorbed, and your sway established; but ages of war would be
necessary entirely to obliterate our usages, our language, and our
religion from the peopled portions of Mexico."
It might be well for some among us to reflect on these matters. The
opinions of Don Juan, in our judgment, being entitled to the
consideration of all prudent and considerate men.
As Spike descended to the door of the light-house, Harry, Rose, and
Jack Tier retired within that of the dwelling. Presently the voice
of the captain was heard hailing the Mexican, and together they
walked to the wharf, the former boasting to the latter of his
success in making a brilliant light. Brilliant it was, indeed; so
brilliant as to give Mulford many misgivings on the subject of the
boat. The light from the lantern fell upon the wharf, and he could
see the boat from the window where he stood, with Spike standing
nearly over it, waiting for the men to get his own yawl ready. It is
true, the captain's back was toward the dangerous object, and the
planks of the bridge were partly between him and it; but there was a
serious danger that was solely averted by the circumstance that
Spike was so earnestly dilating on some subject to Don Juan, as to
look only at that gentleman's face. A minute later they were all in
the yawl, which pulled rapidly toward the brig.
Don Juan Montefalderon was not long absent. Ten minutes sufficed for
the boat to reach the Swash, for him to obtain his cloak, and to
return to the islet alone, no one in the vessel feeling a desire to
interfere with his imaginary prayers. As for the people, it was not
probable that one in the brig could have been induced to accompany
him to the graves at that hour; though everybody but Josh had
turned-in, as he informed Mulford, to catch short naps previously to
the hour of getting the brig under way. As for the steward, he had
been placed on the look-out as the greatest idler on board. All this
was exceedingly favourable to Jack Tier's project, since Josh was
already in the secret of his absence, and would not be likely to
betray his return. After a brief consultation, it was agreed to wait
half an hour or an hour, in order to let the sleepers lose all
consciousness, when Don Juan proposed returning to the vessel with
his new companion.
The thirty or forty minutes that succeeded were passed in general
conversation. On this occasion the Señor Montefalderon spoke more
freely than he had yet done of recent events. He let it be plainly
seen how much he despised Spike, and how irksome to him was the
intercourse he was obliged to maintain, and to which he only
submitted through a sense of duty. The money known to be in the
schooner, was of a larger amount than had been supposed; and every
dollar was so important to Mexico, at that moment, that he did not
like to abandon it, else, did he declare, that he would quit the
brig at once, and share in the fortunes of Harry and Rose. He
courteously expressed his best wishes for the happiness of the young
couple, and delicately intimated that, under the circumstances, he
supposed that they would be united as soon as they could reach a
place where the marriage rite could be celebrated. This was said in
the most judicious way possible; so delicately as not to wound any
one's feelings, and in a way to cause it to resemble the
announcement of an expectation, rather than the piece of paternal
advice for which it was really intended. Harry was delighted with
this suggestion of his Mexican friend--the most loyal American may
still have a sincere friend of Mexican birth and Mexican feelings,
too--since it favoured not only his secret wishes, but his secret
expectations also.
At the appointed moment, Don Juan Montefalderon and Jack Tier took
their leave of the two they left behind them. Rose manifested what
to Harry seemed a strange reluctance to part with the little
steward; but Tier was bent on profiting by this excellent
opportunity to get back to the brig. They went, accordingly, and the
anxious listeners, who watched the slightest movement of the yawl,
from the shore, had reason to believe that Jack was smuggled in
without detection. They heard the familiar sound of the oar falling
in the boat, and Mulford said that Josh's voice might be
distinguished, answering to a call from Don Juan. No noise or
clamour was heard, such as Spike would certainly have made, had he
detected the deception that had been practised on himself.
Harry and Rose were now alone. The former suggested that the latter
should take possession of one of the little bed-rooms that are
usually to be found in American dwellings of the dimensions and
humble character of the lighthouse abode, while he kept watch until
the brig should sail. Until Spike was fairly off, he would not trust
himself to sleep; but there was no sufficient reason why Rose should
not endeavour to repair the evil of a broken night's rest, like that
which had been passed in the boat. With this understanding, then,
our heroine took possession of her little apartment, where she threw
herself on the bed in her clothes, while Mulford walked out into the
air, as the most effective means of helping to keep his eyes open.
It was now some time past ten, and before eleven the moon would
rise. The mate consequently knew that his watch could not be long
before Spike would quit the neighbourhood--a circumstance pregnant
with immense relief to him, at least. So long as that unscrupulous,
and now nearly desperate, man remained anywhere near Rose, he felt
that she could not be safe; and as he paced the sands, on the off,
or outer side of the islet, in order to be beyond the influence of
the light in the lantern, his eye was scarcely a moment taken away
from the Swash, so impatiently and anxiously did he wait for the
signs of some movement on board her.
The moon rose, and Mulford heard the well-known raps on the
booby-hatch, which precedes the call of "all hands," on board a
merchant-man. "All hands up anchor, ahoy!" succeeded, and in less
than five minutes the bustle on board the brig announced the fact,
that her people were "getting the anchor." By this time it had got
to be so light that the mate deemed it prudent to return to the
house, in order that he might conceal his person within its shadows.
Awake Rose he would not, though he knew she would witness the
departure of the Swash with a satisfaction little short of his own.
He thought he would wait, that when he did speak to her at all, it
might be to announce their entire safety. As regarded the aunt, Rose
was much relieved on her account, by the knowledge that Jack Tier
would not fail to let Mrs. Budd know everything connected with her
own situation and prospects. The desertion of Jack, after coming so
far with her, had pained our heroine in a way we cannot at present
explain; but go he would, probably feeling assured there was no
longer any necessity for his continuance with the lovers, in order
to prevail on Rose to escape from Spike.
The Swash was not long in getting her ground-tackle, and the brig
was soon seen with her topsail aback, waiting to cat the anchor.
This done, the yards swung round, and the topsail filled. It was
blowing just a good breeze for such a craft to carry whole sail on a
bow-line with, and away the light and active craft started, like the
racer that is galloping for daily exercise. Of course there were
several passages by which a vessel might quit the group of islets,
some being larger, and some smaller, but all having sufficient water
for a brigantine of the Molly's draught. Determined not to lose an
inch of distance unnecessarily, Spike luffed close up to the wind,
making an effort to pass out to windward of the light. In order to
do this, however, it became necessary for him to make two short
tacks within the haven, which brought him far enough to the
southward and eastward to effect his purpose. While this was doing,
the mate, who perfectly understood the object of the manoeuvres,
passed to the side of the light-house that was opposite to that on
which the dwelling was placed, with a view to get a better sight of
the vessel as she stood out to sea. In order to do this, however, it
was necessary for the young man to pass through a broad bit of
moonlight but he trusted for his not being seen, to the active
manner in which all hands were employed on board the vessel. It
would seem that, in this respect, Mulford trusted without his host,
for as the vessel drew near, he perceived that six or eight figures
were on the guns of the Swash, or in her rigging, gesticulating
eagerly, and seemingly pointing to the very spot where he stood.
When the brig got fairly abeam of the light, she would not be a
hundred yards distant from it, and fearful to complete the exposure
of his person, which he had so inadvertently and unexpectedly
commenced, our mate drew up close to the wall of the light-house,
against which he sustained himself in a position as immovable as
possible. This movement had been seen by a single seaman on board
the Swash, and the man happened to be one of those who had landed
with Spike only two hours before. His name was Barlow.
"Captain Spike, sir," called out Barlow, who was coiling up rigging
on the forecastle, and was consequently obliged to call out so loud
as to be heard by all on board, "yonder is a man at the foot of the
light-house."
By this time, the moon coming out bright through an opening in the
clouds, Mulford had become conscious of the risk he ran, and was
drawn up, as immovable as the pile itself, against the stones of the
light-house. Such an announcement brought everybody to leeward, and
every head over the bulwarks. Spike himself sprang into the lee
main-chains, where his view was unobstructed, and where Mulford saw
and recognised him, even better than he was seen and recognised in
his own person. All this time the brig was moving ahead.
"A man, Barlow!" exclaimed Spike, in the way one a little bewildered
by an announcement expresses his surprise. "A man! that can never
be. There is no one at the light-house, you know."
"There he stands, sir, with his back to the tower, and his face this
way. His dark figure against the white-washed stones is plain enough
to be seen. Living, or dead, sir, that is the mate!"
"_Living_ it cannot be," answered Spike, though he gulped at the
words the next moment.
A general exclamation now showed that everybody recognised the mate,
whose figure, stature, dress, and even features, were by this time
all tolerably distinct. The fixed attitude, however, the immovable
statue-like rigidity of the form, and all the other known
circumstances of Harry's case, united to produce a common and
simultaneous impression among the superstitious mariners, that what
they saw was but the ghostly shadow of one lately departed to the
world of spirits. Even Spike was not free from this illusion, and
his knees shook beneath him, there where he stood, in the channels
of a vessel that he had handled like a top in so many gales and
tempests. With him, however, the illusion was neither absolute nor
lasting. A second thought told him it could scarcely be so, and then
he found his voice. By this time the brig was nearly abreast of
where Harry stood.
"You Josh!" called out Spike, in a voice of thunder, loud enough to
startle even Mrs. Budd and Biddy in their berths.
"Lor' help us all!" answered the negro, "what _will_ come next
t'ing aboard dis wessel! Here I be, sir."
"Pass the fowling-piece out of my state-room. Both barrels are
loaded with ball; I'll try him, though the bullets _are_ only lead."
A common exclamation of dissatisfaction escaped the men, while Josh
was obeying the order. "It's no use."
"You never can hurt one of them things," "Something will befall the
brig on account of this," and "It's the mate's sperit, and sperits
can't be harmed by lead or iron," were the sort of remarks made by
the seamen, during the short interval between the issuing the order
for the fowling-piece and its execution.
"There 't is, Cap'in Spike," said Josh, passing the piece up through
the rigging, "but 't will no more shoot _that_ thing, than one of
our carronades would blow up Gibraltar."
By this time Spike was very determined, his lips being compressed
and his teeth set, as he took the gun and cocked it. Then he hailed.
As all that passed occurred, as it might be, at once, the brig even
at that moment was little more than abreast of the immovable mate,
and about eighty yards from him.
"Light-house, there!" cried Spike--"Living or dead, answer or I
fire."
No answer came, and no motion appeared in the dark figure that was
now very plainly visible, under a bright moon, drawn in high relief
against the glittering white of the tower. Spike dropped the muzzle
to its aim, and fired.
So intense was the attention of all in the Swash, that a wink of
Harry's could almost have been seen, had he betrayed even that
slight sign of human infirmity at the flash and the report. The ball
was flattened against a stone of the building, within a foot of the
mate's body; but he did not stir. All depended now on his perfect
immovability, as he well knew; and he so far commanded himself, as
to remain rigid as if of stone himself.
"There! one can see how it is--no life in that being," said one. "I
know'd how it would end," added another. "Nothing but silver, and
that cast on purpose, will ever lay it," continued a third. But
Spike disregarded all. This time he was resolved that his aim should
be better, and he was inveterately deliberate in getting it. Just as
he pulled the trigger, however, Don Juan Montefalderon touched his
elbow, the piece was fired, and there stood the immovable figure as
before, fixed against the tower. Spike was turning angrily to chide
his Mexican friend for deranging his aim, when the report of an
answering musket came back like an echo. Every eye was turned toward
the figure, but it moved not. Then the humming sound of an advancing
ball was heard, and a bullet passed, whistling hoarsely, through the
rigging, and fell some distance to windward. Every head disappeared
below the bulwarks. Even Spike was so far astonished as to spring in
upon deck, and, for a single instant, not a man was to be seen above
the monkey-rail of the brig. Then Spike recovered himself and jumped
upon a gun. His first look was toward the light-house, now on the
vessel's lee-quarter; but the spot where had so lately been seen the
form of Mulford, showed nothing but the glittering brightness of the
white-washed stones!
The reader will not be surprised to learn that all these events
produced a strange and deep impression on board the Molly Swash. The
few who might have thrown a little light on the matter were
discreetly silent, while all that portion of the crew which was in
the dark, firmly believed that the spirit of the murdered mate was
visiting them, in order to avenge the wrongs inflicted on it in the
flesh. The superstition of sailors is as deep as it is general. All
those of the Molly, too, were salts of the old school, sea-dogs of a
past generation, properly speaking, and mariners who had got their
notions in the early part of the century, when the spirit of
progress was less active than it is at present.
Spike himself might have had other misgivings, and believed that he
had seen the living form of his intended victim, but for the
extraordinary and ghost-like echo of his last discharge. There was
nothing visible, or intelligible, from which that fire could have
come, and he was perfectly bewildered by the whole occurrence. An
intention to round-to, as soon as through the passage, down boat and
land, which had been promptly conceived when he found that his first
aim had failed, was as suddenly abandoned, and he gave the command
to "board fore-tack;" immediately after, his call was to "pack on the
brig," and not without a little tremour in his voice, as soon as he
perceived that the figure had vanished. The crew was not slow to
obey these orders, and in ten minutes, the Swash was a mile from the
light, standing to the northward and eastward, under a press of
canvas, and with a freshening breeze.
To return to the islets. Harry, from the first, had seen that
everything depended on his remaining motionless. As the people of
the brig were partly in shadow, he could not, and did not, fully
understand how completely he was himself exposed, in consequence of
the brightness of all around him, and he had at first hoped to be
mistaken for some accidental resemblance to a man. His nerves were
well tried by the use of the fowling-piece, but they proved equal to
the necessities of the occasion. But, when an answering report came
from the rear, or from the opposite side of the islet, he darted
round the tower, as much taken by surprise, and overcome by wonder,
as any one else who heard it. It was this rapid movement which
caused his flight to be unnoticed, all the men of the brig dodging
below their own bulwarks at that precise instant.
As the light-house was now between the mate and the brig, he had no
longer any motive for trying to conceal himself. His first thought
was of Rose, and, strange as it may seem, for some little time he
fancied that she had found a musket in the dwelling, and discharged
it, in order to aid his escape. The events had passed so swiftly,
that there was no time for the cool consideration of anything, and
it is not surprising that some extravagances mingled with the first
surmises of all these.
On reaching the door of the house, therefore, Harry was by no means
surprised at seeing Rose standing in it, gazing at the swiftly
receding brigantine. He even looked for the musket, expecting to see
it lying at her feet, or leaning against the wall of the building.
Rose, however, was entirely unarmed, and as dependent on him for
support, as when he had parted from her, an hour or two before.
"Where did you find that musket, Rose, and what have you done with
it?" inquired Harry, as soon as he had looked in every place he
thought likely to hold such an implement.
"Musket, Harry! I have had no musket, though the report of
fire-arms, near by, awoke me from a sweet sleep."
"Is this possible! I had imprudently trusted myself on the other
side of the light-house, while the moon was behind clouds, and when
they broke suddenly away, its light betrayed me to those on board
the brig. Spike fired at me twice, without injuring me; when, to my
astonishment, an answering report was heard from the islet. What is
more, the piece was charged with a ball-cartridge, for I heard the
whistling of the bullet as it passed on its way to the brig."
"And you supposed I had fired that musket?"
"Whom else could I suppose had done it? You are not a very likely
person to do such a thing, I will own, my love; but there are none
but us two here."
"It must be Jack Tier," exclaimed Rose suddenly.
"That is impossible, since he has left us."
"One never knows. Jack understood how anxious I was to retain him
with us, and he is so capricious and full of schemes, that he may
have contrived to get out of the brig, as artfully as he got on
board her."
"If Jack Tier be actually on this islet, I shall set him down as
little else than a conjuror."
"Hist!" interrupted Rose, "what noise is that in the direction of
the wharf? It sounds like an oar falling in a boat."
Mulford heard that well-known sound, as well as his companion, and,
followed by Rose, he passed swiftly through the house, coming out at
the front, next the wharf. The moon was still shining bright, and
the mystery of the echoing report, and answering shot, was
immediately explained. A large boat, one that pulled ten oars, at
least, was just coming up to the end of the wharf, and the manner in
which its oars were unshipped and tossed, announced to the mate that
the crew were man-of-war's men. He walked hastily forward to meet
them.
Three officers first left the boat together. The gold bands of their
caps showed that they belonged to the quarter-deck, a fact that the
light of the moon made apparent at once, though it was not strong
enough to render features distinct. As Mulford continued to advance,
however, the three officers saluted him.
"I see you have got the light under way once more," observed the
leader of the party. "Last night it was as dark as Erebus in your
lantern."
"The light-house keeper and his assistant have both been drowned,"
answered Mulford. "The lamps have been lit to-night by the people of
the brig which has just gone out."
"Pray, sir, what brig may that be?"
"The Molly Swash, of New York; a craft that I lately belonged to
myself, but which I have left on account of her evil doings."
"The Molly Swash, Stephen Spike master and owner, bound to Key West
and a market, with a cargo of eight hundred barrels of flour, and
that of a quality so lively and pungent that it explodes like
gunpowder! I beg your pardon, Mr. Mate, for not recognising you
sooner. Have you forgotten the Poughkeepsie, Captain Mull, and her
far-reaching Paixhans?"
"I ought to ask your pardon, Mr. Wallace, for not recognising _you_
sooner, too. But one does not distinguish well by moonlight. I am
delighted to see you, sir, and now hope that, with my assistance, a
stop can be put to the career of the brig."
"What, Mr. Mate, do _you_ turn against your craft?" said Wallace,
under the impulsive feeling which induces all loyal men to have a
distaste for treachery of every sort, "the seaman should love the
very planks of his vessel."
"I fully understand you, Mr. Wallace, and will own that, for a long
time, I was tied to rascality by the opinions to which you allude.
But, when you come to hear my explanation, I do not fear your
judgment in the least."
Mulford now led the way into the house, whither Rose had already
retreated, and where she had lighted candles, and made other womanly
arrangements for receiving her guests. At Harry's suggestion, some
of the soup was placed over coals, to warm up for the party, and our
heroine made her preparations to comfort them also with a cup of
tea. While she was thus employed, Mulford gave the whole history of
his connection with the brig, his indisposition to quit the latter,
the full exposure of Spike's treason, his own desertion, if
desertion it could be called, the loss of the schooner, and his
abandonment on the rock, and the manner in which he had been finally
relieved. It was scarcely possible to relate all these matters, and
altogether avoid allusions to the schemes of Spike in connection
with Rose, and the relation in which our young man himself stood
toward her. Although Mulford touched on these points with great
delicacy, it was as a seaman talking to seamen, and he could not
entirely throw aside the frankness of the profession. Ashore, men
live in the privacy of their own domestic circles, and their
secrets, and secret thoughts, are "family secrets," of which it has
passed into a proverb to say, that there are always some, even in
the best of these communities. On shipboard, or in the camp, it is
very different. The close contact in which men are brought with each
other, the necessity that exists for opening the heart and expanding
the charities, gets in time to influence the whole character, and a
certain degree of frankness and simplicity, takes the place of the
reserve and acting that might have been quickened in the same
individual, under a different system of schooling. But Mulford was
frank by nature, as well as by his sea-education, and his companions
on this occasion were pretty well possessed of all his wishes and
plans, in reference to Rose, even to his hope of falling in with the
chaplain of the Poughkeepsie, by the time his story was all told.
The fact that Rose was occupied in another room, most of the time,
had made these explanations all the easier, and spared her many a
blush. As for the man-of-war's men, they listened to the tale, with
manly interest and a generous sympathy.
"I am glad to hear your explanation, Mr. Mate," said Wallace,
cordially, as soon as Harry had done, "and there's my hand, in proof
that I approve of your course. I own to a radical dislike of a
turncoat, or a traitor to his craft, Brother Hollins"--looking at
the elder of his two companions, one of whom was the midshipman who
had originally accompanied him on board the Swash--"and am glad to
find that our friend Mulford here is neither. A true-hearted sailor
can be excused for deserting even his own ship, under such
circumstances."
"I am glad to hear even this little concession from you, Wallace,"
answered Hollins, good-naturedly, and speaking with a mild
expression of benevolence, on a very calm and thoughtful
countenance. "Your mess is as heteredox as any I ever sailed with,
on the subject of our duties, in this respect."
"I hold it to be a sailor's duty to stick by his ship, reverend and
dear sir."
This mode of address, which was used by the "ship's gentleman" in
the cant of the ward-room, as a pleasantry of an old shipmate, for
the two had long sailed together in other vessels, at once announced
to Harry that he saw the very chaplain for whose presence he had
been so anxiously wishing. The "reverend and dear sir" smiled at the
sally of his friend, a sort of thing to which he was very well
accustomed, but he answered with a gravity and point that, it is to
be presumed, he thought befitting his holy office.
It may be well to remark here, that the Rev. Mr. Hollins was not one
of the "lunch'd chaplains," that used to do discredit to the navy of
this country, or a layman dubbed with such a title, and rated that
he might get the pay and become a boon companion of the captain, at
the table and in his frolics ashore. Those days are gone by, and
ministers of the gospel are now really employed to care for the
souls of the poor sailors, who so long have been treated by others,
and have treated themselves, indeed, as if they were beings without
souls, altogether. In these particulars, the world has certainly
advanced, though the wise and the good, in looking around them, may
feel more cause for astonishment in contemplating what it once was,
than to rejoice in what it actually is. But intellect has certainly
improved in the aggregate, if not in its especial dispensations, and
men will not now submit to abuses that, within the recollections of
a generation, they even cherished. In reference to the more
intellectual appointments of a ship of war, the commander excepted,
for we contend he who directs all, ought to possess the most
capacity, but, in reference to what are ordinarily believed to be
the more intellectual appointments of a vessel of war, the surgeon
and the chaplain, we well recollect opinions that were expressed to
us, many years since, by two officers of the highest rank known to
the service. "When I first entered the navy," said one of these old
Benbows, "if I had occasion for the amputation of a leg, and the
question lay between the carpenter and the doctor, d--e, but I would
have tried the carpenter first, for I felt pretty certain he would
have been the most likely to get through with the job." "In old
times," said the other, "when a chaplain joined a ship, the question
immediately arose, whether the mess were to convert the chaplain, or
the chaplain, the mess; and the mess generally got the best of it."
There was very little exaggeration in either of these opinions. But,
happily, all this is changed vastly for the better, and a
navy-surgeon is necessarily a man of education and experience; in
very many instances, men of high talents are to be found among them;
while chaplains can do something better than play at backgammon, eat
terrapins, when in what may be called terra-pin-ports, and drink
brandy and water, or pure Bob Smith.1
"It is a great mistake, Wallace, to fancy that the highest duty a
man owes, is either to his ship or to his country," observed the
Rey. Mr. Hollins, quietly. "The highest duty of each and all of us,
is to God; and whatever conflicts with that duty, must be avoided as
a transgression of his laws, and consequently as sin."
"You surprise me, reverend and dear sir! I do not remember ever to
have heard you broach such opinions before, which might be
interpreted to mean that a fellow might be disloyal to his flag."
"Because the opinion might be liable to misinterpretation. Still, I
do not go as far as many of my friends on this subject. If Decatur
ever really said, `Our country, right or wrong,' he said what might
be just enough, and creditable enough, in certain cases, and taken
with the fair limitations that he probably intended should accompany
the sentiment; but, if he meant it as an absolute and controlling
principle, it was not possible to be more in error. In this last
sense, such a rule of conduct might, and in old times often would,
have justified idolatry; nay, it _is_ a species of idolatry in
itself, since it is putting country before God. Sailors may not
always be able to make the just distinctions in these cases, but the
quarter-deck should be so, irreverend and dear sir."
Wallace laughed, and then he turned the discourse to the subject
more properly before them.
"I understand you to say, Mr. Mulford," he remarked, "that, in your
opinion, the Swash has gone to try to raise the unfortunate Mexican
schooner, a second time, from the depths of the ocean?"
"From the rock on which she lies. Under the circumstances, I hardly
think he would have come hither for the chain and cable, unless with
some such object. We know, moreover, thut such _was_ his intention
when we left the brig."
"And you can take us to the very spot where that wreck lies?"
"Without any difficulty. Her masts are partly out of water, and we
hung on to them, in our boat, no later than last night, or this
morning rather."
"So far, well. Your conduct in all this affair will be duly
appreciated, and Captain Mull will not fail to represent it in a
right point of view to the government."
"Where is the ship, sir? I looked for her most anxiously, without
success, last evening; nor had Jack Tier, the little fellow I have
named to you, any better luck; though I sent him aloft, as high as
the lantern in the light-house, for that purpose."
"The ship is off here to the northward and westward, some six
leagues or so. At sunset she may have been a little further. We have
supposed that the Swash would be coming back hither, and had laid a
trap for her, which came very near taking her alive."
"What is the trap you mean, sir--though taking Stephen Spike alive,
is sooner said than done."
"Our plan has been to catch him with our boats. With the greater
draft of water of the Poughkeepsie, and the heels of your brig, sir,
a regular chase about these reefs, as we knew from experience, would
be almost hopeless. It was, therefore, necessary to use head-work,
and some man-of-war traverses, in order to lay hold of him.
Yesterday afternoon we hoisted out three cutters, manned them, and
made sail in them all, under our luggs, working up against the
trades. Each boat took its own course, one going off, the west end
of the reef, one going more to the eastward, while I came this way,
to look in at the Dry Tortugas. Spike will be lucky if he do not
fall in with our third cutter, which is under the fourth lieutenant,
should he stand on far on the same tack as that on which he left
this place. Let him try his fortune, however. As for our boat, as
soon as I saw the lamps burning in the lantern, I made the best of
my way hither, and got sight of the brig, just as she loosened her
sails. Then I took in my own luggs, and came on with the oars. Had
we continued under our canvas, with this breeze, I almost think we
might have overhauled the rascal."
"It would have been impossible, sir. The moment he got a sight of
your sails, he would have been off in a contrary direction, and that
brig really seems to fly, whenever there is a pressing occasion for
her to move. You did the wisest thing you could have done, and
barely missed him, as it was. He has not seen you at all, as it is,
and will be all the less on his guard, against the next visit from
the ship."
"Not seen me! Why, sir, the fellow fired at us _t_wice with a
musket; why he did not use a carronade, is more than I can tell."
"Excuse me, Mr. Wallace; those two shots were intended for me,
though I now fully comprehend why you answered them."
"Answered them! yes, indeed; who would not answer such a salute, and
gun for gun, if he had a chance. I certainly thought he was firing
at us, and having a musket between my legs, I let fly in return, and
even the chaplain here will allow that was returning `good for
evil.' But explain your meaning."
Mulford now went into the details of the incidents connected with
his coming into the moon-light, at the foot of the light-house. That
he was not mistaken as to the party for whom the shots were
intended, was plain enough to him, from the words that passed aloud
among the people of the Swash, as well as from the circumstance that
both balls struck the stones of the tower quite near him. This
statement explained everything to Wallace, who now fully
comprehended the cause and motive of each incident.
It was now near eleven, and Rose had prepared the table for supper.
The gentlemen of the Poughkeepsie manifested great interest in the
movements of the Hebe-like little attendant who was caring for their
wants. When the cloth was to be laid, the midshipman offered his
assistance, but his superior directed him to send a hand or two up
from the wharf, where the crew of the cutter were lounging or
sleeping after their cruise. These men had been thought of, too; and
a vessel filled with smoking soup was taken to them, by one of their
own number.
The supper was as cheerful as it was excellent. The dry humour of
Wallace, the mild intelligence of the chaplain, the good sense of
Harry, and the spirited information of Rose, contributed, each in
its particular way, to make the meal memorable in more senses than
one. The laugh came easily at that table, and it was twelve o'clock,
before the party thought of breaking up.
The dispositions for the night were soon made. Rose returned to her
little room, where she could now sleep in comfort, and without
apprehension. The gentlemen made the disposition of their persons,
that circumstances allowed; each finding something on which to
repose, that was preferable to a plank. As for the men, they were
accustomed to hard fare, and enjoyed their present good-luck, to the
top of their bent. It was quite late, before they had done "spinning
their yarns," and "cracking their jokes," around the pot of
turtle-soup, and the can of grog that succeeded it. By half-past
twelve, however, everybody was asleep.
Mulford was the first person afoot the following morning. He left
the house just as the sun rose, and perceiving that the "coast was
clear" of sharks, he threw off his light attire, and plunged into
the sea. Refreshed with this indulgence, he was returning toward the
building, when he met the chaplain coming in quest of him. This
gentleman, a man of real piety, and of great discretion, had been
singularly struck, on the preceding night, with the narrative of our
young mate; and he had not failed to note the allusions, slight as
they were, and delicately put as they had been, to himself. He saw,
at once, the propriety of marrying a couple so situated, and now
sought Harry, with a view to bring about so desirable an event, by
intimating his entire willingness to officiate. It is scarcely
necessary to say that very few words were wanting, to persuade the
young man to fall into his views; and as to Rose, he had handed her
a short note on the same subject, which he was of opinion, would be
likely to bring her to the same way of thinking.
An hour later, all the officers, Harry and Rose, were assembled in
what might be termed the light-house parlour. The Rev. Mr. Hollins
had neither band, gown, nor surplice; but he had what was far
better, feeling and piety. Without a prayer-book he never moved; and
he read the marriage ceremony with a solemnity that was communicated
to all present. The ring was that which had been used at the
marriage of Rose's parents, and which she wore habitually, though
not on the left hand. In a word, Harry and Rose were as firmly and
legally united, on that solitary and almost unknown islet, as could
have been the case, had they stood up before the altar of mother
Trinity itself, with a bishop to officiate, and a legion of
attendants. After the compliments which succeeded the ceremony, the
whole party sat down to breakfast.
If the supper had been agreeable, the morning meal was not less so.
Rose was timid and blushing, as became a bride, though she could not
but feel how much more respectable her position became under the
protection of Harry as his wife, than it had been while she was only
his betrothed. The most delicate deportment, on the part of her
companions, soon relieved her embarrassment however, and the
breakfast passed off without cause for an unhappy moment.
"The ship's standing in toward the light, sir," reported the
cockswain of the cutter, as the party was still lingering around the
table, as if unwilling to bring so pleasant a meal to a close.
"Since the mist has broke away, we see her, sir, even to her ports
and dead-eyes."
"In that case, Sam, she can't be very far off," answered Wallace.
"Ay, there goes a gun from her, at this moment, as much as to say,
`what has become of all of my boats?' Run down and let off a musket;
perhaps she will make out to hear that, as we must be rather to
windward, if anything."
The signal was given and understood. A quarter of an hour later, the
Poughkeepsie began to shorten sail. Then Wallace stationed himself
in the cutter, in the centre of one of the passages, signalling the
ship to come on. Ten minutes later still, the noble craft came into
the haven, passing the still burning light, with her topsails just
lifting, and making a graceful sweep under very reduced sail, she
came to the wind, very near the spot where the Swash had lain only
ten hours before, and dropped an anchor.
1. In the palmy days of the service, when Robert Smith was so long
Secretary of the Navy, the ship's whisky went by this familiar
_sobriquet_.