I might have pass'd that lovely cheek,
Nor, perchance, my heart have left me;
But the sensitive blush that came trembling there,
Of my heart it for ever bereft me.
Who could blame had I loved that face,
Ere my eyes could twice explore her;
Yet it is for the fairy intelligence there,
And her warm, warm heart I adore her.
Wolfe.
The stories of the respective parties who had thus so strangely met on
that barren and isolated rock, were soon told. Harry confirmed all of
Jack's statements as to his own proceedings, and Rose had little more to
say than to add how much her own affections had led her to risk in
his behalf. In a word, ten minutes made each fully acquainted with the
other's movements. Then Tier considerately retired to the boat, under
the pretence of minding it, and seeing everything ready for a
departure, but as much to allow the lovers the ten or fifteen minutes of
uninterrupted discourse that they now enjoyed, as for any other reason.
It was a strange scene that now offered on the rock. By this time the
fire was burning not only brightly, but fiercely, shedding its bright
light far and near. Under its most brilliant rays stood Harry and Rose,
both smiling and happy, delighted in their meeting, and, for the moment,
forgetful of all but their present felicity. Never, indeed, had Rose
appeared more lovely than under these circumstances. Her face was
radiant with those feelings which had so recently changed from despair
to delight--a condition that is ever most propitious to beauty; and
charms that always appeared feminine and soft, now seemed elevated to
a bright benignancy that might best be likened to our fancied images of
angels. The mild, beaming, serene and intelligent blue eyes, the cheeks
flushed with happiness, the smiles that came so easily, and were so
replete with tenderness, and the rich hair, deranged by the breeze, and
moistened by the air of the sea, each and all, perhaps, borrowed
some additional lustre from the peculiar light under which they were
exhibited. As for Harry, happiness had thrown all the disadvantages
of exposure, want of dress, and a face that had not felt the razor for
six-and-thirty hours, into the back-ground. When he left the wreck, he
had cast aside his cap and his light summer jacket, in order that they
might not encumber him in swimming, but both had been recovered when
he returned with the boat to take off his friends. In his ordinary sea
attire, then, he now stood, holding Rose's two hands in front of the
fire, every garment clean and white as the waters of the ocean could
make them, but all betraying some of the signs of his recent trials.
His fine countenance was full of the love he bore for the intrepid and
devoted girl who had risked so much in his behalf; and a painter might
have wished to preserve the expression of ardent, manly admiration
which glowed in his face, answering to the gentle sympathy and womanly
tenderness it met in that of Rose.
The back-ground of this picture was the wide, even surface of the coral
reef, with its exterior setting of the dark and gloomy sea. On the side
of the channel, however, appeared the boat, already winded, with Biddy
still on the rock, looking kindly at the lovers by the fire, while Jack
was holding the painter, beginning to manifest a little impatience at
the delay.
“They'll stay there an hour, holding each other's hands, and
looking into each other's faces,” half grumbled the little, rotund,
assistant-steward, anxious to be on his way back to the brig, “unless a
body gives 'em a call. Captain Spike will be in no very good humour to
receive you and me on board ag'in, if he should find out what sort of a
trip we've been making hereaway.”
“Let 'em alone--let 'em alone, Jacky,” answered the good-natured and
kind-hearted Irish woman. “It's happy they bees, jist now, and it does
my eyes good to look at 'em.”
“Ay, they're happy enough, _now;_ I only hope it may last.”
“Last! what should help its lasting? Miss Rose is so good, and so
handsome--and she's a fortin', too; and the mate so nice a young man.
Think of the likes of them, Jack, wantin' the blessed gift of wather,
and all within one day and two nights. Sure it's Providence that takes
care of, and not we ourselves! Kings on their thrones is n't as happy as
_them_ at this moment.”
“Men's willians!” growled Jack; “and more fools women for trustin' 'em.”
“Not sich a nice young man as our mate, Jacky; no, not he. Now the mate
of the ship I came from Liverpool in, this time ten years agone, he was
a villain. He grudged us our potaties, and our own bread; and he grudged
us every dhrap of swate wather that went into our mouths. Call him a
villain, if you will, Jack; but niver call the likes of Mr. Mulford by
so hard a name.”
“I wish him well, and nothing else; and for that very reason must put
a stop to his looking so fondly into that young woman's face. Time wont
stand still, Biddy, to suit the wishes of lovers; and Stephen Spike is a
man not to be trifled with. Halloo, there, maty! It's high time to think
of getting under way.”
At this summons both Harry and Rose started, becoming aware of the
precious moments they were losing. Carrying a large portion of the
turtle, the former moved toward the craft, in which all were seated in
less than three minutes, with the sail loose, and the boat in motion.
For a few moments the mate was so much occupied with Rose, that he did
not advert to the course; but one of his experience could not long
be misled on such a point, and he turned suddenly to Tier, who was
steering, to remonstrate.
“How's this, Jack!” cried Mulford; “you've got the boat's head the wrong
way.”
“Not I, sir. She's heading for the brig as straight as she can go. This
wind favours us on both legs; and it's lucky it does, for't will be hard
on upon daylight afore we are alongside of her. You'll want half an hour
of dark, at the very least, to get a good start of the Swash, in case
she makes sail a'ter you.”
“Straight for the brig!--what have we to do with the brig? Our course is
for Key West, unless it might be better to run down before the wind to
the Dry Tortugas again, and look for the sloop-of-war. Duty, and perhaps
my own safety, tells me to let Captain Mull know what Spike is about
with the Swash; and I shall not hesitate a moment about doing it, after
all that has passed. Give me the helm, Jack, and let us ware short round
on our heel.”
“Never, master maty--never. I must go back to the brig. Miss Rose,
there, knows that my business is with Stephen Spike, and with him only.”
“And I must return to my aunt, Harry,” put in Rose, herself. “It would
never do for me to desert my aunt, you know.”
“And I have been taken from that rock, to be given up to the tender
mercies of Spike again?”
This was said rather in surprise, than in a complaining way; and it at
once induced Rose to tell the young man the whole of their project.
“Never, Harry, never,” she said firmly. “It is our intention to return
to the brig ourselves, and let you escape in the boat afterwards. Jack
Tier is of opinion this can be done without much risk, if we use proper
caution and do not lose too much time. On no account would I consent
to place you in the hands of Spike again--death would be preferable to
that, Harry!”
“And on no account can or will I consent to place _you_ again in the
hands of Spike, Rose,” answered the young man. “Now that we know his
intentions, such an act would be almost impious.”
“Remember my aunt, dear Harry. What would be her situation in the
morning, when she found herself deserted by her niece and Biddy--by me,
whom she has nursed and watched from childhood, and whom she loves so
well.”
“I shall not deny your obligations to your aunt, Rose, and your duty
to her under ordinary circumstances. But these are not ordinary
circumstances; and it would be courting the direst misfortunes, nay,
almost braving Providence, to place yourself in the hands of that
scoundrel again, now that you are clear of them.”
“Spike's a willian!” muttered Jack.
“And my desartin' the missus would be a sin that no praste would
overlook aisily,” put in Biddy. “When Miss Rose told me of this v'y'ge
that she meant to make in the boat wid Jack Tier, I asked to come along,
that I might take care of her, and see that there was plenty of wather;
but ill-luck befall me if I would have t'ought of sich a thing, and the
missus desarted.”
“We can then run alongside of the brig, and put Biddy and Jack on board
of her,” said Mulford, reflecting a moment on what had just been said,
“when you and I can make the best of our way to Key West, where the
means of sending government vessels out after the Swash will soon offer.
In this way we can not only get our friends out of the lion's jaws, but
keep out of them ourselves.”
“Reflect a moment, Harry,” said Rose, in a low voice, but not without
tenderness in its tones; “it would not do for me to go off alone with
you in this boat.”
“Not when you have confessed your willingness to go over the wide world
with me, Rose--with me, and with me only?”
“Not even then, Harry. I know you will think better of this, when your
generous nature has time to reason with your heart, on my account.”
“I can only answer in your own words, Rose--never. If you return to the
Swash, I shall go on board with you, and throw defiance into the very
teeth of Spike. I know the men do not dislike me, and, perhaps, assisted
by Señor Montefalderon, and a few friends among the people, I can muster
a force that will prevent my being thrown into the sea.”
Rose burst into tears, and then succeeded many minutes, during which
Mulford was endeavouring, with manly tenderness, to soothe her. As soon
as our heroine recovered her self-command, she began to discuss the
matter at issue between them more coolly. For half an hour everything
was urged by each that feeling, affection, delicacy, or distrust of
Spike could well urge, and Mulford was slowly getting the best of the
argument, as well he might, the truth being mostly of his side. Rose was
bewildered, really feeling a strong reluctance to quit her aunt,
even with so justifiable a motive, but principally shrinking from the
appearance of going off alone in a boat, and almost in the open sea,
with Mulford. Had she loved Harry less, her scruples might not have been
so active, but the consciousness of the strength of her attachment, as
well as her fixed intention to become his wife the moment it was in her
power to give him her hand with the decencies of her sex, contributed
strangely to prevent her yielding to the young man's reasoning. On
the subject of the aunt, the mate made out so good a case, that it was
apparent to all in the boat Rose would have to abandon that ground of
refusal. Spike had no object to gain by ill-treating Mrs. Budd; and the
probability certainly was that he would get rid of her as soon as he
could, and in the most easy manner. This was so apparent to all,
that Harry had little difficulty in getting Rose to assent to its
probability. But there remained the reluctance to go off alone with the
mate in a boat. This part of the subject was more difficult to manage
than the other; and Mulford betrayed as much by the awkwardness with
which he managed it. At length the discussion was brought to a close by
Jack Tier suddenly saying,--
“Yonder is the brig; and we are heading for her as straight as if she
was the pole, and the keel of this boat was a compass. I see how it
is, Miss Rose, and a'ter all, I must give in. I suppose some other
opportunity will offer for me to get on board of the brig ag'in, and
I'll trust to that. If you won't go off with the mate alone, I suppose
you'll not refuse to go off in my company.”
“Will you accompany us, Jack? This is more than I had hoped for! Yes,
Harry, if Jack Tier will be of the party, I will trust my aunt to Biddy,
and go with you to Key West, in order to escape from Spike.”
This was said so rapidly, and so unexpectedly, as to take Mulford
completely by surprise. Scarce believing what he heard, the young man
was disposed, at first, to feel hurt, though a moment's reflection
showed him that he ought to rejoice in the result let the cause be what
it might.
“More than I had hoped for!” he could not refrain from repeating a
little bitterly; “is Jack Tier, then, of so much importance, that _his_
company is thought preferable to mine!”
“Hush, Harry!” said Rose, laying her hand on Mulford's arm, by way
of strengthening her appeal. “Do not say _that_. You are ignorant of
circumstances; at another time you shall know them, but not now. Let it
be enough for the present, that I promise to accompany you if Jack will
be of our party.”
“Ay, ay, Miss Rose, I will be of the party, seeing there is no other way
of getting the lamb out of the jaws of the wolf. A'ter all, it may be
the wisest thing I can do, though back to the Swash I must and
_will_ come, powder or no powder, treason or no treason, at the first
opportunity. Yes, _my_ business is with the Molly, and to the Molly I
shall return. It's lucky, Miss Rose, since you have made up your mind to
ship for this new cruise, that I bethought me of telling Biddy to make
up a bundle of duds for you. This carpet-bag has a change or two in it,
and all owing to my forethought. Your woman said 'Miss Rose will come
back wid us, Jack, and what's the use of rumplin' the clothes for a few
hours' sail in the boat;' but I knew womankind better, and foreseed that
if master mate fell in alongside of you ag'in, you would not be apt to
part company very soon.”
“I thank you, Jack, for the provision made for my comfort; though some
money would have added to it materially. My purse has a little gold in
it, but a very little, and I fear you are not much better off, Harry. It
will be awkward to find ourselves in Key West penniless.”
“We shall not be quite that. I left the brig absolutely without a cent,
but foreseeing that necessity might make them of use, I borrowed half
a dozen of the doubloons from the bag of Señor Montefalderon, and,
fortunately, they are still in my pocket. All I am worth in the world is
in a bag of half-eagles, rather more than a hundred altogether, which I
left in my chest, in my own state-room aboard the brig.”
“You'll find that in the carpet-bag too, master mate,” said Jack,
coolly.
“Find what, man--not my money, surely?”
“Ay, every piece of it. Spike broke into your chest this a'ternoon,
and made me hold the tools while he was doing it. He found the bag,
and overhauled it--a hundred and seven half, eleven quarter, and one
full-grown eagle, was the count. When he had done the job, he put all
back ag'in, a'ter giving me the full-grown eagle for my share of the
plunder, and told me to say nothing of what I had seen. I did say
nothing, but I did a good bit of work, for, while he was at supper. I
confiserated that bag, as they call it--and you will find it there among
Miss Rose's clothes, with the full-grown gentleman back in his nest
ag'in.”
“This is being not only honest, Tier,” cried Mulford, heartily, “but
thoughtful. One-half that money shall be yours for this act.”
“I thank'e, sir; but I'll not touch a cent of it. It came hard, I know,
Mr. Mulford; for my own hands have smarted too much with tar, not to
know that the seaman 'earns his money like the horse.'”
“Still it would not be 'spending it like an ass,' Jack, to give you a
portion of mine. But there will be other opportunities to talk of this.
It is a sign of returning to the concerns of life, Rose, that money
begins to be of interest to us. How little did we think of the
doubloons, or half-eagles, a few hours since, when on the wreck!”
“It was wather that we t'ought of then,” put in Biddy. “Goold is good
in a market, or in a town, or to send back to Ireland, to help a body's
aged fader or mudder in comfort wid; but wather is the blessed thing on
a wrack!”
“The brig is coming quite plainly into view, and you had better give me
the helm, Jack. It is time to bethink us of the manner of approaching
her, and how we are to proceed when alongside.”
This was so obviously true, that everybody felt disposed to forget all
other matters, in order to conduct the proceedings of the next twenty
minutes, with the necessary prudence and caution. When Mulford first
took the helm, the brig was just coming clearly into view, though still
looking a little misty and distant. She might then have been half a
league distant, and would not have been visible at all by that light,
but for the circumstance that she had no back-ground to swallow up her
outlines. Drawn against clouds, above which the rays of the moon were
shed, her tracery was to be discerned, however, and, minute by minute,
it was getting to be more and more distinct, until it was now so plainly
to be seen as to admonish the mate of the necessity of preparation in
the manner mentioned.
Tier now communicated to the mate his own proposed manner of proceeding.
The brig tended to the trades, the tides having very little influence on
her, in the bight of the reef where she lay. As the wind stood at about
east south-east, the brig's stern pointed to about west north-west,
while the boat was coming down the passage from a direction nearly north
from her, having, as a matter of course, the wind just free enough to
lay her course. Jack's plan was to pass the brig to windward, and
having got well on her bow, to brail the sail, and drift down upon her,
expecting to fall in alongside, abreast of the fore-chains, into which
he had intended to help Biddy, and to ascend himself, when he supposed
that Mulford would again make sail, and carry off his mistress. To this
scheme the mate objected that it was awkward, and a little lubberly. He
substituted one in its place that differed in seamanship, and which was
altogether better. Instead of passing to wind-ward, Mulford suggested
the expediency of approaching to leeward, and of coming alongside under
the open bow-port, letting the sheet fly and brailing the sail, when
the boat should be near enough to carry her to the point of destination
without further assistance from her canvass.
Jack Tier took his officer's improvement on his own plan in perfect
good part, readily and cheerfully expressing his willingness to aid the
execution of it all that lay in his power. As the boat sailed unusually
well, there was barely time to explain to each individual his or her
part in the approaching critical movements, ere the crisis itself drew
near; then each of the party became silent and anxious, and events were
regarded rather than words.
It is scarcely necessary to say that Mulford sailed a boat well. He held
the sheet in his hand, as the little craft came up under the lee-quarter
of the brig, while Jack stood by the brail. The eyes of the mate glanced
over the hull of the vessel to ascertain, if possible, who might be
stirring; but not a sign of life could he detect on board her. This very
silence made Mulford more distrustful and anxious, for he feared a trap
was set for him. He expected to see the head of one of the blacks at
least peering over the bulwarks, but nothing like a man was visible. It
was too late to pause, however, and the sheet was slowly eased off, Jack
hauling on the brail at the same time; the object being to prevent the
sail's flapping, and the sound reaching the ears of Spike. As Mulford
used great caution, and had previously schooled Jack on the subject,
this important point was successfully achieved. Then the mate put his
helm down, and the boat shot up under the brig's lee-bow. Jack was ready
to lay hold of one of the bow-sprit shrouds, and presently the boat
was breasted up under the desired port, and secured in that position.
Mulford quitted the stern-sheets, and cast a look in upon deck. Nothing
was to be seen, though he heard the heavy breathing of the blacks,
both of whom were sound asleep on a sail that they had spread on the
forecastle.
The mate whispered for Biddy to come to the port. This the Irishwoman
did at once, having kissed Rose, and taken her leave of her previously.
Tier also came to the port, through which he passed, getting on deck
with a view to assist Biddy, who was awkward, almost as a matter of
course, to pass through the same opening. He had just succeeded, when
the whole party was startled, some of them almost petrified, indeed, by
a hail from the quarter-deck in the well-known, deep tones of Spike.
“For'ard, there?” hailed the captain. Receiving no answer, he
immediately repeated, in a shorter, quicker call, “Forecastle, there?”
“Sir,” answered Jack Tier, who by this time had come to his senses.
“Who has the look-out on that forecastle?”
“I have it, sir--I, Jack Tier. You know, sir, I was to have it from two
'till daylight.”
“Ay, ay, I remember now. How does the brig ride to her anchor?”
“As steady as a church, sir. She's had no more sheer the whole watch
than if she was moored head and starn.”
“Does the wind stand as it did?”
“No change, sir. As dead a trade wind as ever blowed.”
“What hard breathing is that I hear for'ard?”
“'T is the two niggers, sir. They've turned in on deck, and are napping
it off at the rate of six knots. There's no keepin' way with a nigger in
snorin'.”
“I thought I heard loud whispering, too, but I suppose it was a sort of
half-dream. I'm often in that way now-a-days. Jack!”
“Sir.”
“Go to the scuttle-butt and get me a pot of fresh water--my coppers are
hot with hard thinking.”
Jack did as ordered, and soon stood beneath the coach-house deck with
Spike, who had come out of his state-room, heated and uneasy at he knew
not what. The captain drank a full pint of water at a single draught.
“That's refreshing,” he said, returning Jack the tinpot, “and I feel the
cooler for it. How much does it want of daylight, Jack?”
“Two hours, I think, sir. The order was passed to me to have all hands
called as soon as it was broad day.”
“Ay, that is right. We must get our anchor and be off as soon as there
is light to do it in. Doubloons may melt as well as flour, and are best
cared for soon when cared for at all.”
“I shall see and give the call as soon as it is day. I hope, Captain
Spike, I can take the liberty of an old ship-mate, however, and say one
thing to you, which is this--look out for the Poughkeepsie, which is
very likely to be on your heels when you least expect her.”
“That's your way of thinking, is it, Jack. Well, I thank you, old one,
for the hint, but have little fear of that craft. We've had our legs
together, and I think the brig has the longest.”
As the captain said this, he gaped like a hound, and went into his
state-room. Jack lingered on the quarter-deck, waiting to hear him
fairly in his berth, when he made a sign to Biddy, who had got as far
aft as the galley, where she was secreted, to pass down into the cabin,
as silently as possible. In a minute or two more, he moved forward,
singing in a low, cracked voice, as was often his practice, and slowly
made his way to the forecastle. Mulford was just beginning to think the
fellow had changed his mind, and meant to stick by the brig, when the
little, rotund figure of the assistant-steward was seen passing through
the port, and to drop noiselessly on a thwart. Jack then moved to the
bow, and cast off the painter, the head of the boat slowly falling off
under the pressure of the breeze on that part of her mast and sail which
rose above the hull of the Swash. Almost at the same moment, the mate
let go the stern-fast, and the boat was free.
It required some care to set the sail without the canvas flapping. It
was done, however, before the boat fairly took the breeze, when all was
safe. In half a minute the wind struck the sail, and away the little
craft started, passing swiftly ahead of the brig. Soon as far enough
off, Mulford put up his helm and wore short round, bringing the boat's
head to the northward, or in its proper direction; after which they flew
along before the wind, which seemed to be increasing in force, with a
velocity that really appeared to defy pursuit. All this time the brig
lay in its silence and solitude, no one stirring on board her, and all,
in fact, Biddy alone excepted, profoundly ignorant of what had just
been passing alongside of her. Ten minutes of running off with a flowing
sheet, caused the Swash to look indistinct and hazy again; in ten
minutes more she was swallowed up, hull, spars, and all, in the gloom of
night.
Mulford and Rose now felt something like that security, without the
sense of which happiness itself is but an uneasy feeling, rendering the
anticipations of evil the more painful by the magnitude of the stake.
There they sat, now, in the stern-sheets by themselves, Jack Tier having
placed himself near the bows of the boat, to look out for rocks, as well
as to trim the craft. It was not long before Rose was leaning on Harry's
shoulder, and ere an hour was past, she had fallen into a sweet sleep in
that attitude, the young man having carefully covered her person with a
capacious shawl, the same that had been used on the wreck. As for Jack,
he maintained his post in silence, sitting with his arms crossed,
and the hands thrust into the breast of his jacket, sailor fashion, a
picture of nautical vigilance. It was some time after Rose had fallen
asleep, that this singular being spoke for the first time.
“Keep her away a bit, maty,” he said, “keep her away, half a point
or so. She's been travelin' like a racer since we left the brig; and
yonder's the first streak of day.”
“By the time we have been running,” observed Mulford, “I should think we
must be getting near the northern side of the reef.”
“All of that, sir, depend on it. Here's a rock close aboard on us, to
which we're comin' fast--just off here, on our weather-bow, that looks
to me like the place where you landed a'ter that swim, and where we had
stowed ourselves when Stephen Spike made us out, and gave chase.”
“It is surprising to me, Jack, that you should have any fancy to stick
by a man of Spike's character. He is a precious rascal, as we all can
see, now, and you are rather an honest sort of fellow.”
“Do you love the young woman there, that's lying in your arms, as it
might be, and whom you say you wish to marry.”
“The question is a queer one, but it is easily answered. More than my
life, Jack.”
“Well, how happens it that _you_ succeed, when the world has so many
other young men who might please her as well as yourself.”
“It may be that no other loves her as well, and she has had the sagacity
to discover it.”
“Quite likely. So it is with me and Stephen Spike. I fancy a man whom
other folk despise and condemn. _Why_ I stand by him is my own secret;
but stand by him I do and will.”
“This is all very strange, after your conduct on the island, and your
conduct to-night. I shall not disturb your secret, however, Jack, but
leave you to enjoy it by yourself. Is this the rock of which you spoke,
that we are now passing?”
“The same; and there's the spot in which we was stowed when they made
us out from the brig; and here-away, a cable's length, more or less, the
wreck of that Mexican craft must lie.”
“What is that rising above the water, thereaway, Jack; more on our
weather-beam?”
“I see what you mean, sir; it looks like a spar. By George! there's two
on 'em; and they _do_ seem to be the schooner's masts.”
Sure enough! a second look satisfied Mulford that two mast-heads were
out of water, and that within a hundred yards of the place the boat
was running past. Standing on a short distance, or far enough to give
himself room, the mate put his helm down, and tacked the boat. The
flapping of the sail, and the little movement of shifting over the
sheet, awoke Rose, who was immediately apprized of the discovery. As
soon as round, the boat went glancing up to the spars, and presently was
riding by one, Jack Tier having caught hold of a topmast-shroud, when
Mulford let fly his sheet again, and luffed short up to the spot. By
this time the increasing light was sufficiently strong to render objects
distinct, when near by, and no doubt remained any longer in the mind of
Mulford about the two mast-heads being those of the unfortunate Mexican
schooner.
“Well, of all I have ever seen I've never see'd the like of this afore!”
exclaimed Jack. “When we left this here craft, sir, you'll remember,
she had almost turned turtle, laying over so far as to bring her upper
coamings under water; now she stands right side up, as erect as if
docked! My navigation can't get along with this, Mr. Mulford, and it
does seem like witchcraft.”
“It is certainly a very singular incident, Jack, and I have been trying
to come at its causes.”
“Have you succeeded, Harry?” asked Rose, by this time wide awake, and
wondering like the others.
“It must have happened in this wise. The wreck was abandoned by us some
little distance out here, to windward. The schooner's masts, of course,
pointed to leeward, and when she drifted in here, they have first
touched on a shelving rock, and as they have been shoved up, little by
little, they have acted as levers to right the hull, until the cargo has
shifted back into its proper berth, which has suddenly set the vessel up
again.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Jack, “all that might have happened had she been
above water, or any part of her above water; but you'll remember, maty,
that soon after we left her she went down.”
“Not entirely. The wreck settled in the water no faster after we had
left it, than it had done before. It continued to sink, inch by inch, as
the air escaped, and no faster after it had gone entirely out of sight
than before; not as fast, indeed, as the water became denser the lower
it got. The great argument against my theory, is the fact, that after
the hull got beneath the surface, the wind could not act on it. This
is true in one sense, however, and not in another. The waves, or the
pressure of the water produced by the wind, might act on the hull for
some time after we ceased to see it. But the currents have set the craft
in here, and the hull floating always, very little force would cant the
craft. If the rock were shelving and slippery, I see no great difficulty
in the way; and the barrels may have been so lodged, that a trifle would
set them rolling back again, each one helping to produce a change that
would move another. As for the ballast, that, I am certain, could not
shift, for it was stowed with great care. As the vessel righted, the air
still in her moved, and as soon as the water permitted, it escaped by
the hatches, when the craft went down, as a matter of course. This air
may have aided in bringing the hull upright by its movements in the
water.”
This was the only explanation to which the ingenuity of Mulford could
help him, under the circumstances, and it may have been the right one,
or not. There lay the schooner, however, in some five or six fathoms of
water, with her two topmasts, and lower mast-heads out of the element,
as upright as if docked! It may all have occurred as the mate fancied,
or the unusual incident may have been owing to some of the many
mysterious causes which baffle inquiry, when the agents are necessarily
hidden from examination.
“Spike intends to come and look for this wreck, you tell me, Jack; in
the hope of getting at the doubloons it contains?” said Mulford; when
the boat had lain a minute or two longer, riding by the mast-head.
“Ay, ay, sir; that's his notion, sir, and he'll be in a great stew,
as soon as he turns out, which must be about this time, and finds me
missing; for I was to pilot him to the spot.”
“He'll want no pilot now. It will be scarcely possible to pass anywhere
near this and not see these spars. But this discovery almost induces me
to change my own plans. What say _you,_ Rose? We have now reached the
northern side of the reef, when it is time to haul close by the wind,
if we wish to beat up to Key West. There is a moral certainty, however,
that the sloop-of-war is somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Dry
Tortugas, which are much the most easily reached, being to leeward. We
might run down to the light-house by mid-day, while it is doubtful if we
could reach the town until to-morrow morning. I should like
exceedingly to have five minutes conversation with the commander of the
Poughkeepsie.”
“Ay, to let him know where he will be likely to fall in with the Molly
Swash and her traitor master, Stephen Spike,” cried Jack Tier. “Never
mind, maty; let 'em come on; both the Molly and her master have got
long legs and clean heels. Stephen Spike will show 'em how to thread the
channels of a reef.”
“It is amazing to me, Jack, that you should stand by your old captain
in feeling, while you are helping to thwart him, all you can, in his
warmest wishes.”
“He's a willian!” muttered Jack--“a reg'lar willian is Stephen Spike!”
“If a villain, why do you so evidently wish to keep him out of the hands
of the law? Let him be captured and punished, as his crimes require.”
“Men's willians, all round,” still muttered Jack. “Hark'e, Mr. Mulford,
I've sailed in the brig longer than you, and know'd her in her comeliest
and best days--when she was young, and blooming, and lovely to the eye,
as the young creature at your side--and it would go to my heart to have
anything happen to _her_. Then, I've know'd Stephen a long time, too,
and old shipmates get a feelin' for each other, sooner or later. I tell
you now, honestly, Mr. Mulford, Captain Adam Mull shall never make a
prisoner of Stephen Spike, if I can prevent it.”
The mate laughed at this sally, but Rose appeared anxious to change the
conversation, and she managed to open a discussion on the subject of the
course it might be best to steer. Mulford had several excellent reasons
to urge for wishing to run down to the islets, all of which, with a
single exception, he laid before his betrothed. The concealed reason
was one of the strongest of them all, as usually happens when there is
a reason to conceal, but of that he took care to say nothing. The result
was an acquiescence on the part of Rose, whose consent was yielded more
to the influence of one particular consideration than to all the rest
united. That one was this: Harry had pointed out to her the importance
to himself of his appearing early to denounce the character and
movements of the brig, lest, through his former situation in her, his
own conduct might be seriously called in question.
As soon as the matter was determined, Jack was told to let go his hold,
the sheet was drawn aft, and away sped the boat. No sooner did Mulford
cause the little craft to keep away than it almost flew, as if conscious
it were bound to its proper home, skimming swiftly over the waves,
like a bird returning eagerly to its nest. An hour later the party
breakfasted. While at this meal, Jack Tier pointed out to the mate a
white speck, in the south-eastern board, which he took to be the brig
coming through the passage, on her way to the wreck.
“No matter,” returned the mate. “Though we can see her, she cannot see
us. There is that much advantage in our being small, Rose, if it do
prevent our taking exercise by walking the deck.”
Soon after, Mulford made a very distant sail in the north-western board,
which he hoped might turn out to be the Poughkeepsie. It was but another
speck, but its position was somewhat like that in which he had expected
to meet the sloop-of-war. The two vessels were so far apart that one
could not be seen from the other, and there was little hope that the
Poughkeepsie would detect Spike at his toil on the wreck; but the mate
fully expected that the ship would go into the anchorage, among the
islets, in order to ascertain what had become of the schooner. If she
did not go in herself, she would be almost certain to send in a boat.
The party from the brigantine had run down before the wind more than two
hours before the light-house began to show itself, just rising out of
the waves. This gave them the advantage of a beacon, Mulford having
steered hitherto altogether by the sun, the direction of the wind, and
the treading of the reef. Now he had his port in sight, it being his
intention to take possession of the dwelling of the light-house keeper,
and to remain in it, until a favourable opportunity occurred to remove
Rose to Key West. The young man had also another important project in
view, which it will be in season to mention as it reaches the moment of
its fulfillment.
The rate of sailing of the light-house boat, running before a brisk
trade wind, could not be much less than nine miles in the hour. About
eleven o'clock, therefore, the lively craft shot through one of the
narrow channels of the islets, and entered the haven. In a few minutes
all three of the adventurers were on the little wharf where the
light-house people were in the habit of landing. Rose proceeded to the
house, while Harry and Jack remained to secure the boat. For the latter
purpose a sort of slip, or little dock, had been made, and when the boat
was hauled into it, it lay so snug that not only was the craft secure
from injury, but it was actually hid from the view of all but those who
stood directly above it.
“This is a snug berth for the boat, Jack,” observed the mate, when he
had hauled it into the place mentioned, “and by unstepping the mast, a
passer-by would not suspect such a craft of lying in it. Who knows what
occasion there may be for concealment, and I'll e'en do that thing.”
To a casual listener, Harry, in unstepping the mast, might have seemed
influenced merely by a motiveless impulse; but, in truth, a latent
suspicion of Jack's intentions instigated him, and as he laid the mast,
sprit and sail on the thwarts, he determined, in his own mind, to remove
them all to some other place, as soon as an opportunity for doing so
unobserved should occur. He and Jack now followed Rose to the house.
The islets were found deserted and tenantless. Not a human being had
entered the house since Rose left it, the evening she had remained so
long ashore, in company with her aunt and the Señor Montefalderon. This
our heroine knew from the circumstance of finding a slight fastening of
the outer door in the precise situation in which she had left it with
her own hands. At first a feeling of oppression and awe prevailed with
both Harry and Rose, when they recollected the fate of those who had so
lately been tenants of the place; but this gradually wore off, and each
soon got to be more at home. As for Jack, he very coolly rummaged the
lockers, as he called the drawers and closets of the place, and made his
preparations for cooking a very delicious repast, in which _callipash_
and _callipee_ were to be material ingredients. The necessary condiments
were easily enough found in that place, turtle being a common dish
there, and it was not long before steams that might have quickened the
appetite of an alderman filled the kitchen. Rose rummaged, too, and
found a clean table-cloth, plates, glasses, bowls, spoons, and knives;
in a word, all that was necessary to spread a plain but plentiful board.
While all this was doing, Harry took some fishing-tackle, and proceeded
to a favourable spot among the rocks. In twenty minutes he returned with
a fine mess of that most delicious little fish that goes by the very
unpoetical name of “hog-fish,” from the circumstance of its giving a
grunt not unlike that of a living porker, when rudely drawn from its
proper element. Nothing was now wanting to not only a comfortable,
but to what was really a most epicurian meal, and Jack just begged the
lovers to have patience for an hour or so, when he promised them dishes
that even New York could not furnish.
Harry and Rose first retired to pay a little attention to their dress,
and then they joined each other in a walk. The mate had found some
razors, and was clean shaved. He had also sequestered a shirt, and made
some other little additions to his attire, that contributed to give him
the appearance of being, that which he really was, a very gentleman-like
looking young sailor. Rose had felt no necessity for taking liberties
with the effects of others, though a good deal of female attire was
found in the dwelling. As was afterward ascertained, a family ordinarily
dwelt there, but most of it had gone to Key West, on a visit, at the
moment when the man and boy left in charge had fallen into the hands of
the Mexicans, losing their lives in the manner mentioned.
While walking together, Harry opened his mind to Rose, on the subject
which lay nearest to his heart, and which had been at the bottom of this
second visit to the islets of the Dry Tortugas. During the different
visits of Wallace to the brig, the boat's crew of the Poughkeepsie had
held more or less discourse with the people of the Swash. This usually
happens on such occasions, and although Spike had endeavoured to prevent
it, when his brig lay in this bay, he had not been entirely successful.
Such discourse is commonly jocular, and sometimes witty; every speech,
coming from which side it may, ordinarily commencing with “shipmate,”
though the interlocutors never saw each other before that interview. In
one of the visits an allusion was made to cargo, when “the pretty gal
aft,” was mentioned as being a part of the cargo of the Swash. In answer
to this remark, the wit of the Poughkeepsie had told the brig's man,
“you had better send her on board us, for we carry a chaplain, a
regular-built one, that will be a bishop some day or other, perhaps, and
we can get her spliced to one of our young officers.” This remark had
induced the sailor of the Molly to ask if a sloop-of-war really carried
such a piece of marine luxury as a chaplain, and the explanation given
went to say that the clergyman in question did not properly belong to
the Poughkeepsie, but was to be put on board a frigate, as soon as they
fell in with one that he named. Now, all this Mulford overheard, and he
remembered it at a moment when it might be of use. Situated as he and
Rose were, he felt the wisdom and propriety of their being united, and
his present object was to persuade his companion to be of the same way
of thinking. He doubted not that the sloop-of-war would come in, ere
long, perhaps that very day, and he believed it would be an easy matter
to induce her chaplain to perform the ceremony. America is a country in
which every facility exists, with the fewest possible impediments,
to getting married; and, we regret to be compelled to add, to getting
unmarried also. There are no banns, no licenses, no consent of parents
even, usually necessary, and persons who are of the age of discretion,
which, as respects females and matrimony, is a very tender age indeed,
may be married, if they see fit, almost without form or ceremony. There
existed, therefore, no legal impediment to the course Mulford desired to
take; and his principal, if not his only difficulty, would be with Rose.
Over her scruples he hoped to prevail, and not without reason, as the
case he could and did present, was certainly one of a character that
entitled him to be heard with great attention.
In the first place, Mrs. Budd had approved of the connection, and it was
understood between them, that the young people were to be united at the
first port in which a clergyman of their own persuasion could be found,
and previously to reaching home. This had been the aunt's own project,
for, weak and silly as she was, the relict had a woman's sense of the
proprieties. It had occured to her that it would be more respectable to
make the long journey which lay before them, escorted by a nephew and
husband, than escorted by even an accepted lover. It is true that
she had never anticipated a marriage in a light-house, and under the
circumstances in which Rose was now placed, though it might be more
reputable that her niece should quit the islets as the wife of Harry
than as his betrothed. Then Mulford still apprehended Spike. In that
remote part of the world, almost beyond the confines of society, it was
not easy to foretell what claims he might set up, in the event of his
meeting them there. Armed with the authority of a husband, Mulford could
resist him, in any such case, with far better prospects of success than
if he should appear only in the character of a suitor.
Rose listened to these arguments, ardently and somewhat eloquently put,
as a girl of her years and habits would be apt to listen to a favoured
lover. She was much too sincere to deny her own attachment, which the
events of the last few days had increased almost to intenseness, so
apt is our tenderness to augment in behalf of those for whom we feel
solicitude; and her judgment told her that the more sober part of
Harry's reasoning was entitled to consideration. As his wife, her
situation would certainly be much less equivocal and awkward, than while
she bore a different name, and was admitted to be a single woman, and it
might yet be weeks before the duty she owed her aunt would allow her to
proceed to the north. But, after all, Harry prevailed more through the
influence of his hold on Rose's affections, as would have been the case
with almost every other woman, than through any force of reasoning. He
truly loved, and that made him eloquent when he spoke of love; sympathy
in all he uttered being his great ally. When summoned to the house, by
the call of Jack, who announced that the turtle-soup was ready, they
returned with the understanding that the chaplain of the Poughkeepsie
should unite them, did the vessel come in, and would the functionary
mentioned consent to perform the ceremony.
“It would be awkward--nay, it would be distressing, Harry, to have
him refuse,” said the blushing Rose, as they walked slowly back to the
house, more desirous to prolong their conversation than to partake
of the bountiful provision of Jack Tier. The latter could not but be
acceptable, nevertheless, to a young man like Mulford, who was in robust
health, and who had fared so badly for the last eight-and-forty hours.
When he sat down to the table, therefore, which was covered by a
snow-white cloth, with smoking and most savoury viands on it, it will
not be surprising if we say it was with a pleasure that was derived from
one of the great necessities of our nature.
Sancho calls for benediction “on the man who invented sleep.” It
would have been more just to have asked this boon in behalf of him who
invented eating and turtle-soup. The wearied fall into sleep, as it
might be unwittingly; sometimes against their will, and often against
their interests; while many a man is hungry without possessing the
means of appeasing his appetite. Still more daily feel hunger without
possessing turtle-soup. Certain persons impute this delicious compound
to the genius of some London alderman, but we rather think unjustly.
Aldermanic genius is easily excited and rendered active, no doubt, by
strong appeals on such a theme, but our own experience inclines us
to believe that the tropics usually send their inventions to the less
fruitful regions of the earth along with their products. We have
little doubt, could the fact be now ascertained, that it would be found
turtle-soup was originally invented by just some such worthy as Jack
Tier, who in filling his coppers to tickle the captain's appetite, had
used all the condiments within his reach; ventured on a sort of Regent's
punch; and, as the consequence, had brought forth the dish so often
eulogized, and so well beloved. It is a little extraordinary that in
Paris, the seat of gastronomy, one rarely, if ever, hears of or sees
this dish; while in London it is to be met in almost as great abundance
as in one of our larger commercial towns. But so it is, and we cannot
say we much envy a _cuisine_ its _patés,_ and _soufflets,_ and its _à
la_ this and _à la_ thats, but which was never redolent with the odours
of turtle-soup.
“Upon my word, Jack, you have made out famously with your dinner, or
supper, whichever you may please to call it,” cried Mulford gaily, as
he took his seat at table, after having furnished Rose with a chair.
“Nothing appears to be wanting; but here is good pilot bread, potatoes
even, and other little niceties, in addition to the turtle and the fish.
These good people of the light seem to have lived comfortably, at any
rate.”
“Why should they not, maty?” answered Jack, beginning to help to soup.
“Living on one of these islets is like living afloat. Everything is laid
in, as for an outward bound craft; then the reef must always furnish
fish and turtle. I've overhauled the lockers pretty thoroughly, and
find a plenty of stores to last _us_ a month. Tea, sugar, coffee, bread,
pickles, potatoes, onions, and all other knick-knacks.”
“The poor people who own these stores will be heavy-hearted enough
when they come to learn the reason why we have been put in undisturbed
possession of their property,” said Rose. “We must contrive some means
of repaying them for such articles as we may use, Harry.”
“That's easily enough done, Miss Rose. Drop one of the half-eagles in a
tea-pot, or a mug, and they'll be certain to fall in with it when they
come back. Nothin' is easier than to pay a body's debts, when a body has
the will and the means. Now, the worst enemy of Stephen Spike must own
that his brig never quits port with unsettled bills. Stephen has his
faults, like other mortals; but he has his good p'ints, too.”
“Still praising Spike, my good Jack,” cried the mate, a little provoked
at this pertinacity in the deputy-steward, in sticking to his ship and
his shipmate. “I should have thought that you had sailed with him long
enough to have found him out, and to wish never to put your foot in his
cabin again.”
“Why, no, maty, a craft is a craft, and a body gets to like even the
faults of one in which a body has gone through gales, and squalls,
with a whole skin. I like the Swash, and, for sartain things I like her
captain.”
“Meaning by that, it is your intention to get on board of the one, and
to sail with the other, again, as soon as you can.”
“I do, Mr. Mulford, and make no bones in telling on't. You know that I
came here without wishing it.”
“Well, Jack, no one will attempt to control your movements, but you
shall be left your own master. I feel it to be a duty, however, as one
who may know more of the law than yourself, as well as more of Stephen
Spike, to tell you that he is engaged in a treasonable commerce with
the enemy, and that he, and all who voluntarily remain with him, knowing
this fact, may be made to swing for it.”
“Then I'll swing for it,” returned Jack, sullenly.
“There is a little obstinacy in this, my good fellow, and you must be
reasoned out of it. I am under infinite obligations to you, Jack, and
shall ever be ready to own them. Without you to sail the boat, I might
have been left to perish on that rock,--for God only knows whether any
vessel would have seen me in passing. Most of those who go through
that passage keep the western side of the reef aboard, they tell me, on
account of there being better water on that side of the channel, and the
chance of a man's being seen on a rock, by ships a league or two off,
would be small indeed. Yes, Jack, I owe my life to you, and am proud to
own it.”
“You owe it to Miss Rose, maty, who put me up to the enterprise, and who
shared it with me.”
“To her I owe more than life,” answered Harry, looking at his beloved
as she delighted in being regarded by him, “but even she, with all
her wishes to serve me, would have been helpless without your skill in
managing a boat. I owe also to your good-nature the happiness of having
Rose with me at this moment; for without you she would not have come.”
“I'll not deny it, maty--take another ladle-full of the soup, Miss Rosy:
a quart of it would n't hurt an infant--I'll not deny it, Mr. Mulford--I
know by the way you've got rid of the first bowl-full that _you_ are
ready for another, and there it is--I'll not deny it, and all I can say
is that you are heartily welcome to my sarvices.”
“I thank you, Jack; but all this only makes me more desirous of being of
use to you, now, when it's in my power. I wish you to stick by me, and
not to return to the Swash. As soon as I get to New York I shall build
or buy a ship, and the berth of steward in her shall always be open to
you.”
“Thank'e, maty; thank'e, with all my heart. It's something to know that
a port is open to leeward, and, though I cannot _now_ accept your offer,
the day _may_ come when I shall be glad to do so.”
“If you like living ashore better, our house will always be ready to
receive you. I should be glad to leave as handy a little fellow as
yourself behind me whenever I went to sea. There are a hundred things in
which you might be useful, and fully earn your biscuit, so as to have no
qualms about eating the bread of idleness.”
“Thank'e, thank'e, maty,” cried Jack, dashing a tear out of his eye with
the back of his hand, “thank'e, sir, from the bottom of my heart. The
time _may_ come, but not now. My papers is signed for this v'y'ge.
Stephen Spike has a halter round his neck, as you say yourself, and it's
necessary for me to be there to look to't. We all have our callin's and
duties, and this is mine. I stick by the Molly and her captain until
both are out of this scrape, or both are condemned. I know nothin' of
treason; but if the law wants another victim, I must take my chance.”
Mulford was surprised at this steadiness of Jack's, in what he thought
a very bad cause, and he was quite as much surprised that Rose did
not join him, in his endeavours to persuade the steward not to be
so foolhardy, as to endeavour to go back to the brig. Rose did not,
however; sitting silently eating her dinner the whole time, though she
occasionally cast glances of interest at both the speakers the while.
In this state of things the mate abandoned the attempt, for the
moment, intending to return to the subject, after having had a private
conference with his betrothed.
Notwithstanding the little drawback just related, that was a happy as
well as a delicious repast. The mate did full justice to the soup, and
afterward to the fish with the unpoetical name; and Rose ate more than
she had done in the last three days. The habits of discipline prevented
Jack from taking his seat at table, though pressed by both Rose and
Harry to do so, but he helped himself to the contents of a bowl and
did full justice to his own art, on one aside. The little fellow was
delighted with the praises that were bestowed on his dishes; and for the
moment, the sea, its dangers, its tornadoes, wrecks and races, were all
forgotten in the security and pleasures of so savoury a repast.
“Folk ashore do n't know how sailors sometimes live,” said Jack, holding
a large spoon filled with the soup ready to plunge into a tolerably
capacious mouth.
“Or how they sometimes starve,” answered Rose. “Remember our own
situation, less than forty-eight hours since!”
“All very true, Miss Rose; yet, you see, turtle-soup brings us up, a'ter
all. Would you like a glass of wine, maty?”
“Very much indeed, Jack, after so luscious a soup; but wishing for it
will not bring it here.”
“That remains to be seen, sir. I call this a bottle of something that
looks wery much like a wine.”
“Claret, as I live! Why, where should light-house keepers get the taste
for claret?”
“I've thought of that myself, Mr. Mulford, and have supposed that some
of Uncle Sam's officers have brought the liquor to this part of the
world. I understand a party on 'em was here surveyin' all last winter.
It seems they come in the cool weather, and get their sights and measure
their distances, and go home in the warm weather, and work out their
traverses in the shade, as it might be.”
“This seems likely, Jack; but, come whence it may it is welcome, and we
will taste it.”
Mulford then drew the cork of this mild and grateful liquor, and helped
his companions and himself. In this age of moral _tours de force,_ one
scarcely dare say anything favourable of a liquid that even bears the
name of wine, or extol the shape of a bottle. It is truly the era of
exaggeration. Nothing is treated in the old-fashioned, natural, common
sense way. Virtue is no longer virtue, unless it get upon stilts; and,
as for sin's being confined to “transgression against the law of God,”
audacious would be the wretch who should presume to limit the sway of
the societies by any dogma so narrow! A man may be as abstemious as an
anchorite and get no credit for it, unless “he sigu the pledge;” or,
signing the pledge, he may get fuddled in corners, and be cited as a
miracle of sobriety. The test of morals is no longer in the abuse of the
gifts of Providence, but in their use; prayers are deserting the closet
for the corners of streets, and charity (not the giving of alms) has
got to be so earnest in the demonstration of its nature, as to be pretty
certain to “begin at home,” and to end where it begins. Even the art of
mendacity has been aroused by the great progress which is making by all
around it, and many manifest the strength of their ambition by telling
ten lies where their fathers would have been satisfied with telling only
one. This art has made an extraordinary progress within the last quarter
of a century, aspiring to an ascendency that was formerly conceded
only to truth, until he who gains his daily bread by it has some such
contempt for the sneaking wretch who does business on the small scale,
as the slayer of his thousands in the field is known to entertain for
him who kills only a single man in the course of a long life.
At the risk of damaging the reputations of our hero and heroine, we
shall frankly aver the fact that both Harry and Rose partook of the _vin
de Bordeaux,_ a very respectable bottle of _Medoc,_ by the way, which
had been forgotten by Uncle Sam's people, in the course of the preceding
winter, agreeably to Jack Tier's conjecture. One glass sufficed for
Rose, and, contrary as it may be to all modern theory, she was somewhat
the better for it; while the mate and Jack Tier quite half emptied the
bottle, being none the worse. There they sat, enjoying the security
and abundance which had succeeded to their late danger, happy in that
security, happy in themselves, and happy in the prospects of a bright
future. It was just as practicable for them to remain at the Dry
Tortugas, as it was for the family which ordinarily dwelt at the light.
The place was amply supplied with everything that would be necessary
for their wants, for months to come, and Harry caused his betrothed to
blush, as he whispered to her, should the chaplain arrive, he should
delight in passing the honey-moon where they then were.
“I could tend the light,” he added, smiling, “which would be not only an
occupation, but a useful occupation; you could read all those books from
beginning to end, and Jack could keep us suplied with fish. By the way,
master steward, are you in the humour for motion, so soon after your
hearty meal?”
“Anything to be useful,” answered Jack, cheerfully.
“Then do me the favour to go up into the lantern of the light-house, and
take a look for the sloop-of-war. If she's in sight at all, you'll find
her off here to the northward; and while you are aloft you may as well
make a sweep of the whole horizon. There hangs the light-house keeper's
glass, which may help your eyes, by stepping into the gallery outside of
the lantern.”
Jack willingly complied, taking the glass and proceeding forthwith
to the other building. Mulford had two objects in view in giving this
commission to the steward. He really wished to ascertain what was the
chance of seeing the Poughkeepsie, in the neighbourhood of the islets,
and felt just that indisposition to move himself, that is apt to come
over one who has recently made a very bountiful meal, while he also
desired to have another private conversation with Rose.
A good portion of the time that Jack was gone, and he stayed quite an
hour in the lantern, our lovers conversed as lovers are much inclined
to converse; that is to say, of themselves, their feelings, and their
prospects. Mulford told Rose of his hopes and fears, while he visited
at the house of her aunt, previously to sailing, and the manner in which
his suspicions had been first awakened in reference to the intentions of
Spike--intentions, so far as they were connected with an admiration
of his old commander's niece, and possibly in connection also with the
little fortune she was known to possess, but not in reference to the
bold project to which he had, in fact, resorted. No distrust of the
scheme finally put in practice had ever crossed the mind of the young
mate, until he received the unexpected order, mentioned in our opening
chapter, to prepare the brig for the reception of Mrs. Budd and her
party. Harry confessed his jealousy of one youth whom he dreaded far
more even than he had ever dreaded Spike, and whose apparent favour with
Rose, and actual favour with her aunt, had given him many a sleepless
night.
They next conversed of the future, which to them seemed full of flowers.
Various were the projects started, discussed, and dismissed, between
them, the last almost as soon as proposed. On one thing they were of
a mind, as soon as proposed. Harry was to have a ship as quick as one
could be purchased by Rose's means, and the promised bride laughingly
consented to make one voyage to Europe along with her husband.
“I wonder, dear Rose, my poverty has never presented any difficulties
in the way of our union,” said Harry, sensibly touched with the free way
his betrothed disposed of her own money in his behalf; “but neither
you nor Mrs. Budd has ever seemed to think of the difference there is
between us in this respect.”
“What is the trifle I possess, Harry, set in the balance against your
worth? My aunt, as you say, has thought I might even be the gainer by
the exchange.”
“I am sure I feel a thousand times indebted to Mrs. Budd--”
“_Aunt_ Budd. You must learn to say, '_my_ Aunt Budd,' Mr. Henry
Mulford, if you mean to live in peace with her unworthy niece.”
“_Aunt_ Budd, then,” returned Harry, laughing, for the laugh came easily
that evening; “Aunt Budd, if you wish it, Rose. I can have no objection
to call any relative of yours, uncle or aunt.”
“I think we are intimate enough, now, to ask you a question or two,
Harry, touching my aunt,” continued Rose, looking stealthily over her
shoulder, as if apprehensive of being overheard. “You know how fond she
is of speaking of the sea, and of indulging in nautical phrases?”
“Any one must have observed that, Rose,” answered the young man, gazing
up at the wall, in order not to be compelled to look the beautiful
creature before him in the eyes--“Mrs. Budd has very strong tastes that
way.”
“Now tell me, Harry--that is, answer me frankly--I mean--she is not
_always_ right, is she?”
“Why, no; not absolutely so--that is, not absolutely _always_ so--few
persons are _always_ right, you know.”
Rose remained silent and embarrassed for a moment; after which she
pursued the discourse.
“But aunty does not know as much of the sea and of ships as she thinks
she does?”
“Perhaps not. We all overrate our own acquirements. I dare say that even
I am not as good a seaman as I fancy myself to be.”
“Even Spike admits that you are what he calls 'a prime seaman.' But it
is not easy for a woman to get a correct knowledge of the use of all the
strange, and sometimes uncouth, terms that you sailors use.”
“Certainly not, and for that reason I would rather you should never
attempt it, Rose. We rough sons of the ocean would prefer to hear our
wives make divers pretty blunders, rather than to be swaggering about
like so many 'old salts.'”
“Mr. Mulford! Does Aunt Budd swagger like an old salt?”
“Dearest Rose, I was not thinking of your aunt, but of _you_. Of you, as
you are, feminine, spirited, lovely alike in form and character, and of
you a graduate of the ocean, and full of its language and ideas.”
It was probable Rose was not displeased at this allusion to herself, for
a smile struggled around her pretty mouth, and she did not look at all
angry. After another short pause, she resumed the discourse.
“My aunt did not very clearly comprehend those explanations of yours
about the time of day, and the longitude,” she said, “nor am I quite
certain that I did myself.”
“You understood them far better than Mrs. Budd, Rose. Women are so
little accustomed to _think_ on such subjects at all, that it is not
surprising they sometimes get confused. I do wish, however, that
your aunt could be persuaded to be more cautious in the presence of
strangers, on the subject of terms she does not understand.”
“I feared it might be so, Harry,” answered Rose, in a low voice, as if
unwilling even he should know the full extent of her thoughts on this
subject; “but my aunt's heart is most excellent, though she may make
mistakes occasionally, I owe her a great deal, if not absolutely my
education, certainly my health and comfort through childhood, and more
prudent, womanly advice than you may suppose, perhaps, since I have
left school. How she became the dupe of Spike, indeed, is to me
unaccountable; for in all that relates to health, she is, in general,
both acute and skilful.”
“Spike is a man of more art than he appears to be to superficial
observers. On my first acquaintance with him, I mistook him for a
frank, fearless but well-meaning sailor, who loved hazardous voyages and
desperate speculation--a sort of innocent gambler; but I have learned to
know better. His means are pretty much reduced to his brig, and she is
getting old, and can do but little more service. His projects are
plain enough, now. By getting you into his power, he hoped to compel
a marriage, in which case both your fortune and your aunt's would
contribute to repair his.”
“He might have killed me, but I never would have married him,”
rejoined Rose, firmly. “Is not that Jack coming down the steps of the
light-house?”
“It is. I find that fellow's attachment to Spike very extraordinary,
Rose. Can you, in any manner, account for it?”
Rose at first seemed disposed to reply. Her lips parted, as if about to
speak, and closed again, as glancing her eyes toward the open door, she
seemed to expect the appearance of the steward's little, rotund form
on its threshold, which held her tongue-tied. A brief interval elapsed,
however, ere Jack actually arrived, and Rose, perceiving that Harry was
curiously expecting her answer, said hurriedly--“It may be hatred, not
attachment.”
The next instant Jack Tier entered the room. He had been gone rather
more than an hour, not returning until just as the sun was about to set
in a flame of fire.
“Well, Jack, what news from the Poughkeepsie?” demanded the mate. “You
have been gone long enough to make sure of your errand. Is it certain
that we are not to see the man-of-war's-men to-night.”
“Whatever you see, my advice to you is to keep close, and to be on your
guard,” answered Jack, evasively.
“I have little fear of any of Uncle Sam's craft. A plain story, and an
honest heart, will make all clear to a well-disposed listener. We have
not been accomplices in Spike's treasons, and cannot be made to answer
for them.”
“Take my advice, maty, and be in no hurry to hail every vessel you see.
Uncle Sam's fellows may not always be at hand to help you. Do you not
know that this island will be tabooed to seamen for some time to come?”
“Why so, Jack? The islet has done no harm, though others may have
performed wicked deeds near it.”
“Two of the drowned men lie within a hundred yards of this spot, and
sailors never go near new-made graves, if they can find any other place
to resort to.”
“You deal in enigmas, Jack; and did I not know that you are very
temperate, I might suspect that the time you have been gone has been
passed in the company of a bottle of brandy.”
“That will explain my meanin',” said Jack, laconically, pointing as he
spoke seemingly at some object that was to be seen without.
The door of the house was wide open, for the admission of air. It faced
the haven of the islets, and just as the mate's eyes were turned to it,
the end of a flying-jib-boom, with the sail down, and fluttering beneath
it, was coming into the view. “The Poughkeepsie!” exclaimed Mulford, in
delight, seeing all his hopes realized, while Rose blushed to the
eyes. A pause succeeded, during which Mulford drew aside, keeping his
betrothed in the back-ground, and as much out of sight as possible. The
vessel was shooting swiftly into view, and presently all there could see
it was the Swash.