Jack Tier; Or, The Florida Reef

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER VI

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

  Brainard.

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

  The excitement produced by the scenes through which they had so latelypassed, caused the females to sleep soundly, too. The death-likestillness which pervaded the vessel contributed to their rest, and Rosenever woke, from the first few minutes after her head was on her pillow,until near four in the morning. The deep quiet seemed ominous to onewho had so lately witnessed the calm which precedes the tornado, and shearose. In that low latitude and warm season, few clothes were necessary,and our heroine was on deck in a very few minutes. Here she found thesame grave-like sleep pervading everything. There was not a breath ofair, and the ocean seemed to be in one of its profoundest slumbers. Thehard-breathing of Spike could be heard through the open windows of hisstate-room, and this was positively the only sound that was audible. Thecommon men, who lay scattered about the decks, more especially fromthe mainmast forward, seemed to be so many logs, and from Mulford nobreathing was heard.

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

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

  Rose explained the state of the brig, and the feeling which induced herto awaken him. With woman’s gentleness she now expressed her regret forhaving robbed Harry of his rest; had she reflected a moment, she mighthave kept watch herself, and allowed him to obtain the sleep he mustsurely so much require.

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

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

  Mulford took this occasion to introduce the subject of Jack Tier’sintimacy and favour with Rose. He even professed to feel some jealousyon account of it, little as there might be to alarm most men in therivalry of such a competitor. Rose laughed, as girls will laugh whenthere is question of their power over the other sex, and she fairlyshook her rich tresses as she declared her determination to continue tosmile on Jack to the close of the voyage. Then, as if she had saidmore than she intended, she added with woman’s generosity andtenderness,--“After all, Harry, you know how much I promised to you evenbefore we sailed, and how much more since, and have no just cause todread even Jack. There is another reason, however, that ought to setyour mind entirely at case on his account. Jack is married, and hasa partner living at this very moment, as he does not scruple to avowhimself.”

  A hissing noise, a bright light, and a slight explosion, interrupted thehalf-laughing girl, and Mulford, turning on his heel, quick as thought,saw that a rocket had shot into the air, from a point close underthe bows of the brig. He was still in the act of moving toward theforecastle, when, at the distance of several leagues, he saw theexplosion of another rocket high in the air. He knew enough of thepractices of vessels of war, to feel certain that these were a signaland its answer from some one in the service of government. Not at allsorry to have the career of the Swash arrested, before she could passinto hostile hands, or before evil could befall Rose, Mulford reachedthe forecastle just in time to answer the inquiry that was immediatelyput to him, in the way of a hail. A gig, pulling four oars only, withtwo officers in its stern-sheets, was fairly under the vessel’s bows,and the mate could almost distinguish the countenance of the officer whoquestioned him, the instant he showed his head and shoulders above thebulwarks.

  “What vessels are these?” demanded the stranger, speaking in theauthoritative manner of one who acted for the state, but not speakingmuch above the usual conversational tone.

  “American and Spanish,” was the answer. “This brig is American--theschooner alongside is a Spaniard, that turned turtle in a tornado,about six-and-thirty hours since, and on which we have been hard atwork trying to raise her, since the gale which succeeded the tornado hasblown its pipe out.”

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

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

  “The boat is a gig,” answered the stranger, deliberately, “and shebelongs to a cruiser of Uncle Sam’s, that is off the reef, a short bitto the eastward, and we signalled our captain. But I’ll come on boardyou, sir, if you please.”

  Mulford walked aft to meet the stranger at the gangway, and wasrelieved, rather than otherwise, at finding that Spi
ke was already onthe quarter-deck. Should the vessel of war seize the brig, he couldrejoice at it, but so strong were his professional ideas of duty to thecraft he sailed in, that he did not find it in his heart to say aughtagainst her. Were any mishap to befall it, or were justice to be done,he preferred that it might be done under Spike’s own supervision, ratherthan under his.

  “Call all hands, Mr. Mulford,” said Spike, as they met. “I see a streakof day coming yonder in the east--let all hands be called at once. Whatstrange boat is this we have alongside?”

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

  “Ay, ay--one at a time, if you please. It’s war-time, and I cannotsuffer armed boat’s crews to board me at night, without knowingsomething about them. Come up yourself, if you please, but order yourpeople to stay in the boat. Here, muster about this gangway, half adozen of you, and keep an eye on the crew of this strange boat.”

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

  “Ay, ay--I believe I know this vessel now. It is the Molly Swash, ofNew York, bound to Key West, and a market; and I have the honour to seeCaptain Stephen Spike again.”

  It was Mr. Wallace, the second lieutenant of the sloop-of-war that hadboarded the brig in the Mona Passage, and to avoid whom Spike had goneto the southward of Jamaica. The meeting was very mal-â-propos, but itwould not do to betray that the captain and owner of the vessel thoughtas much as this; on the contrary, Wallace was warmly welcomed, andreceived, not only as an old acquaintance, but as a very agreeablevisiter. To have seen the two, as they walked aft together, one mighthave supposed that the meeting was conducive of nothing but a verymutual satisfaction, it was so much like that which happens betweenthose who keep up a hearty acquaintance.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you again, Captain Spike,” cried Wallace, afterthe greetings were passed, “if it be only to ask where you flew to, theday we left you in the Mona Passage? We looked out for you with all oureyes, expecting you would be down between San Domingo and Jamaica, but Ihardly think you got by us in the night. Our master thinks you must havedove, and gone past loon-fashion. Do you ever perform that manoeuvre?”

  “No, we’ve kept above water the whole time, lieutenant,” answeredSpike, heartily; “and that is more than can be said of the poor fellowalongside of us. I was so much afraid of the Isle of Pines, that I wentround Jamaica.”

  “You might have given the Isle of Pines a berth, and still have passedto the northward of the Englishmen,” said Wallace, a little drily.“However, that island is somewhat of a scarecrow, and we have been totake a look at it ourselves. All’s right there, just now. But you seemlight; what have you done with your flour?”

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

  “You have been lucky, sir. This ‘emporium’ does not seem to be exactly acommercial emporium.”

  “The fact is, the flour is intended for the Havanna; and I fancy it isto be shipped for slavers. But I am to know nothing of all that, you’llunderstand, lieutenant. If I sell my flour in American waters, at twoprices, it’s no concern of mine what becomes of it a’terwards.”

  “Unless it happen to pass into enemy’s hands, certainly not; and you aretoo patriotic to deal with Mexico, just now, I’m sure. Pray, did thatflour go down when the schooner turned turtle?”

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

  “And who may Don Wan be, sir, pray? We are sent here to look after Donsand Donas, you know.”

  “Don Wan is a Cuban merchant, and deals in such articles as he wants. Ifell in with him among the reefs here, where he was rummaging about inhopes of meeting with a wrack, he tells me, and thinking to purchasesomething profitable in that way; but finding I had flour, he agreedto take it out of me at this anchorage, and send me away in ballastat once. I have found Don Wan Montefalderon ready pay, and veryhonourable.”

  Wallace then requested an explanation of the disaster, to the detailsof which he listened with a sailor’s interest. He asked a great manyquestions, all of which bore on the more nautical features of the event;and, day having now fairly appeared, he examined the purchases andbackings of the Swash with professional nicety. The schooner was nolower in the water than when the men had knocked off work the previousnight; and Spike set the people at the pumps and their bailing again,as the most effectual method of preventing their making any indiscreetcommunications to the man-of-war’s men.

  About this time the relict appeared on deck, when Spike gallantlyintroduced the lieutenant anew to his passengers. It is true he knewno name to use, but that was of little moment, as he called the officer“the lieutenant,” and nothing else.

  Mrs. Budd was delighted with this occasion to show-off, and she soonbroke out on the easy, indolent, but waggish Wallace, in a strain tosurprise him, notwithstanding the specimen of the lady’s skill fromwhich he had formerly escaped.

  “Captain Spike is of opinion, lieutenant, that our cast-anchor here isexcellent, and I know the value of a good cast-anchor place; for mypoor Mr. Budd was a sea-faring man, and taught me almost as much of yournoble profession as he knew himself.”

  “And he taught you, ma’am,” said Wallace, fairly opening his eyes, underthe influence of astonishment, “to be very particular about cast-anchorplaces!”

  “Indeed he did. He used to say, that roads-instead were never as good,for such purposes, as land that’s locked havens, for the anchors wouldreturn home, as he called it, in roads-instead.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” answered Wallace, looking very queer at first, as ifdisposed to laugh outright, then catching a glance of Rose, andchanging his mind; “I perceive that Mr. Budd knew what he was about, andpreferred an anchorage where he was well land-locked, and where therewas no danger of his anchors coming home, as so often happens in youropen roadsteads.”

  “Yes, that’s just it! That was just his notion! You cannot feel howdelightful it is, Rose, to converse with one that thoroughly understandssuch subjects! My poor Mr. Budd did, indeed, denounce roads-instead, atall times calling them ‘savage.’”

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

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

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

  Wallace stared again, but his attention was called to other things, justat that moment. The appearance of Don Juan Montefalderon y Castroon deck, reminded him of his duty, and approaching that gentleman hecondoled with him on the grave loss he had sustained. After a few civilexpressions on both sides, Wallace made a delicate allusion to thecharacter of the schooner.

  “Under other circumstances,” he said, “it might be my duty to inquire alittle particularly as to the nationality of your vessel, Se¤or, for weare at war with the Mexicans, as you doubtless know.”

  “Certainly,” answered Don Juan, wit
h an unmoved air and great politenessof manner, “though it would be out of my power to satisfy you.Everything was lost in the schooner, and I have not a paper of any sortto show you. If it be your pleasure to make a prize of a vessel in thissituation, certainly it is in your power to do it. A few barrels of wetflour are scarce worth disputing about.”

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

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

  All this time the business of lightening the schooner proceeded.Although Mulford earnestly wished that the man-of-war might get anaccurate notion of the true character and objects of the brig, he couldnot prevail on himself to become an informer. In order to avoid thetemptation so to do, he exerted himself in keeping the men at theirtasks, and never before had pumping and bailing been carried on withmore spirit. The schooner soon floated of herself, and the purchaseswhich led to the Swash were removed. Near a hundred more barrels of theflour had been taken out of the hold of the Spanish craft, and hadbeen struck on the deck of the brig, or sent to the Key by means of theboats. This made a material change in the buoyancy of the vessel, andenabled the bailing to go on with greater facility. The pumps were neveridle, but two small streams of water were running the whole time towardthe scuppers, and through them into the sea.

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

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

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

  To Wallace, however, he expressed his hearty acknowledgments; begged himnot to be in a hurry, as the worst was now over, and the row was stilla long one. If he got back toward evening it would be all in good time.Wallace waved his hand, and the gig glided away. As for Spike, hesat down on the plank-sheer where he had stood, and remained thereruminating intently for two or three minutes. When he descended to thedeck his mind was fully made up. His first act was to give some privateorders to the boatswain, after which he withdrew to the cabin, whitherhe summoned Tier, without delay.

  “Jack,” commenced the captain, using very little circumlocution inopening his mind, “you and I are old shipmates, and ought to be oldfriends, though I think your natur’ has undergone some changes since welast met. Twenty years ago there was no man in the ship on whom I couldso certainly depend as on Jack Tier; now, you seem given up altogetherto the women. Your mind has changed even more than your body.”

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

  “I!--Not a bit of change has taken place in me for the last thirtyyears. I defy any man to show the contrary. But that’s neither herenor there; you are no young woman, Jack, that I need be boasting of myhealth and beauty before you. I want a bit of real sarvice from you, andwant it done in old-times fashion; and I mean to pay for it in old-timesfashion, too.”

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

  “Ay, ay, sir,” returned Jack, smiling and pocketing the gold, witha wink of the eye, and a knowing look; “this does resemble old timessum’at. I now begin to know Captain Spike, my old commander again, andsee that he’s more like himself than I had just thought him. What amI to do for this, sir? speak plain, that I may be sartain to steer thetrue course.”

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

  “‘T would have been better all round, sir, had they never come aboard atall,” answered Jack, looking dark.

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

  “You know what sort of flour they’re whipping out of the schooner, andmust understand that the brig will soon be in a pretty litter. I do notintend to let them send a single barrel of it beneath my hatches again,but the deck and the islands must take it all. Now I wish to relieve mypassengers from the confinement this will occasion, and I have orderedthe boatswain to pitch a tent for them on the largest of these hereTortugas; and what I want of you, is to muster food and water, andother women’s knicknacks, and go ashore with them, and make them ascomfortable as you can for a few days, or until we can get this schoonerloaded and off.”

  Jack Tier looked at his commander as if he would penetrate his mostsecret thoughts. A short pause succeeded, during which the steward’smate was intently musing, then his countenance suddenly brightened; hegave the doubloon a fillip, and caught it on the palm of his hand asit descended, and he uttered the customary “Ay, ay, sir,” with apparentcheerfulness. Nothing more passed between these two worthies, who nowparted, Jack to make his arrangements, and Spike to “tell his yarn,” ashe termed the operation in his own mind, to Mrs. Budd, Rose, and Biddy.The widow listened complacently, though she seemed half doubting,half ready to comply. As for Rose, she received the proposal withdelight--The confinement of the vessel having become irksome to her. Theprincipal obstacle was in overcoming the difficulties made by the aunt,Biddy appearing to like the notion quite as much as “Miss Rosy.” As forthe light-house, Mrs. Budd had declared nothing would induce her to gothere; for she did not doubt that the place would soon be, if it werenot already, haunted. In this opinion she was sustained by Biddy; andit was the knowledge of this opinion that induced Spike to propose thetent.

  “Are you sure, Captain Spike, it is not a desert island?” asked thewidow; “I remember that my poor Mr. Budd always spoke of desert islandsas horrid places,
and spots that every one should avoid.”

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

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

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

  “Well I’ll venture to oblige you and Biddy, Rosy, dear,” returned theaunt, still half reluctant to yield; “but you’ll remember, that if Ifind it at all a desert island, I’ll not pass the night on it on anyaccount whatever.”

  With this understanding the party was transferred to the shore. Theboatswain had already erected a sort of a tent, on a favourable spot,using some of the old sails that had covered the flour-barrels, notonly for the walls, but for a carpet of some extent also. This tent wasingeniously enough contrived. In addition to the little room that wasentirely enclosed, there was a sort of piazza, or open verandah, whichwould enable its tenants to enjoy the shade in the open air. Beneaththis verandah, a barrel of fresh water was placed, as well as three orfour ship’s stools, all of which had been sent ashore with the materialsfor constructing the tent. The boat had been going and coming for sometime, and the distance being short, the “desert island” was soon adesert no longer. It is true that the supplies necessary to supportthree women for as many days, were no great matter, and were soonlanded, but Jack Tier had made a provision somewhat more ample. Acapital caterer, he had forgotten nothing within the compass of hismeans, that could contribute to the comfort of those who had been putespecially under his care. Long before the people “knocked off” fortheir dinners, the arrangements were completed, and the boatswain wasready to take his leave.

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

  This was only according to the boatswain’s notion of comfort; but Rosethanked him for his care in her winning way, while her aunt admittedthat, “for a place that was almost a desert island, things did looksomewhat promising.” In a few minutes the men were all gone, and theislet was left to the sole possession of the three females, and theirconstant companion, Jack Tier. Rose was pleased with the novelty ofher situation, though the islet certainly did deserve the opprobrium ofbeing a “desert island.” There was no shade but that of the tent, andits verandah-like covering, though the last, in particular, was quiteextensive. There was no water, that in the barrel and that of the oceanexcepted. Of herbage there was very little on this islet, and that wasof the most meagre and coarse character, being a long wiry grass, withhere and there a few stunted bushes. The sand was reasonably firm,however, more especially round the shore, and the walking was far fromunpleasant. Little did Rose know it, but a week earlier, the spot wouldhave been next to intolerable to her, on account of the musquitoes,gallinippers, and other similar insects of the family of tormentors; buteverything of the sort had temporarily disappeared in the currents ofthe tornado. To do Spike justice, he was aware of this circumstance,or he might have hesitated about exposing females to the ordinaryannoyances of one of these spots. Not a musquito, or anything of thesort was left, however, all having gone to leeward, in the vortex whichhad come so near sweeping off the Mexican schooner.

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

  “Do not say that, Rose--not if it’s a desert island, dear; and this isdesperately like a desert island; I am almost sorry I ventured on it.”

  “It will not be deserted by us, aunty, until we shall see occasion to doso. Why not endeavour to get on board of yonder ship, and return to NewYork in her; or at least induce her captain to put us ashore somewherenear this, and go home by land. Your health never seemed better than itis at this moment; and as for mine, I do assure you, aunty, dear, I amas perfectly well as I ever was in my life.”

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

  The good widow loved Rose most tenderly, and she was obliged to useher handkerchief to dry the tears from her eyes as she concluded. Thosetears sprung equally from a past feeling of apprehension, and a presentfeeling of gratitude. Rose saw this, and she took a seat at her aunt’sside, touched herself, as she never failed to be on similar occasionswith this proof of her relative’s affection. At that moment even HarryMulford would have lost a good deal in her kind feelings toward him, hadhe so much as smiled at one of the widow’s nautical absurdities. At suchtimes, Rose seemed to be her aunt’s guardian and protectress, insteadof reversing the relations, and she entirely forgot herself the manyreasons which existed for wishing that she had been placed in childhood,under the care of one better qualified than the well-meaning relict ofher uncle, for the performance of her duties.

  “Thank you, aunty--thank’ee, dear aunty,” said Rose, kissing the widowaffectionately. “I know that you mean the best for me, though you are alittle mistaken in supposing me ill. I do assure you, dear,” pattingher aunt’s cheek, as if she herself had been merely a playful child, “Inever was better; and if I have been pulmonary, I am entirely cured, andam now ready to return home.”

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

  “I do not like this brig, aunty, and now we are out of her, I wish wecould keep out of her. Nor do I like your Captain Spike, who seems to meanything but an agreeable gentleman.”

  “That’s because you arn’t accustomed to the sea. My poor Mr. Budd hadhis ways, like all the rest of them; it takes time to get acquaintedwith them. All sailors are so.”

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

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

  “Well, there is a difference, I must acknowledge, though I dare sayHarry will grow every day more and more like all the rest of them. Inthe end, he will resemble Captain Spike.”

  “Never,” said Rose, firmly.

  “You can’t tell, child. I never saw your uncle when he was Harry’sage, for I was n’t born till he was thirty, but often and often has hepointed out to me some slender, genteel youth, and say, ‘just such a ladwas I at twenty,’ though nothing could be less alike, at the moment hewas speaking, than they two. We all change with our years. Now I wasonce as slender, and almost--not quite, Rosy, for few there are thatbe--but almost as handsome as you yourself.”

  “Yes, aunty, I’ve heard that before,” said Rose, springing up, in orderto change the discourse; “but Harry Mulford will never become likeStephen Spike. I wish we had never known the man, dearest aunt
y.”

  “It was all your own doings, child. He’s a cousin of your most intimatefriend, and she brought him to the house; and one could n’t offend MaryMulford, by telling her we did n’t like her cousin.”

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

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

  A good breeze had come in over the reef from the Gulf, throwing thesloop-of-war dead to leeward of the brigantine’s anchorage. This was thereason that the former had closed so slowly. Still the distance betweenthe vessels was so small, that a swift cruiser, like the ship of war,would soon have been alongside of the wreckers, but for the interveningislets and the intricacies of their channels. She had made sail on thewind, however, and was evidently disposed to come as near to the dangeras her lead showed would be safe, even if she did not venture amongthem.

  Spike noted all these movements, and he took his measures accordingly.The pumping and bailing had been going on since the appearance of light,and the flour had been quite half removed from the schooner’s hold. Thatvessel consequently floated with sufficient buoyancy, and no furtheranxiety was felt on account of her sinking. Still, a great deal of waterremained in her, the cabin itself being nearly half full. Spike’s objectwas to reduce this water sufficiently to enable him to descend into thestate-room which Se¤or Montefalderon had occupied, and bring away thedoubloons that alone kept him in the vicinity of so ticklish a neighbouras the Poughkeepsie. Escape was easy enough to one who knew thepassages of the reef and islets; more especially since the wind had sofortunately brought the cruiser to leeward. Spike most apprehended amovement upon him in the boats, and he had almost made up his mind,should such an enterprise be attempted, to try his hand in beatingit off with his guns. A good deal of uncertainty on the subject ofMulford’s consenting to resist the recognised authorities of thecountry, as well as some doubts of a similar nature in reference to twoor three of the best of the foremast hands, alone left him at all indoubt as to the expediency of such a course. As no boats were loweredfrom the cruiser, however, the necessity of resorting to so desperatea measure, did not occur, and the duty of lightening the schooner hadproceeded without interruption. As soon as the boatswain came off fromthe islet, he and the men with him were directed to take the hands andlift the anchors, of which it will be remembered the Swash had severaldown. Even Mulford was shortly after set at work on the same duty; andthese expert and ready seamen soon had the brig clear of the ground.As the schooner was anchored, and floated without assistance, the Swashrode by her.

  Such was the state of things when the men turned to, after having hadtheir dinners. By this time, the sloop-of-war was within half a leagueof the bay, her progress having been materially retarded by the set ofthe current, which was directly against her. Spike saw that a collisionof some sort or other must speedily occur, and he determined to take theboatswain with him, and descend into the cabin of the schooner inquest of the gold. The boatswain was summoned, and Se¤or Montefalderonrepeated in this man’s presence the instructions that he thought itnecessary for the adventurers to follow, in order to secure the prize.Knowing how little locks would avail on board a vessel, were the mendisposed to rob him, that gentleman had trusted more to secreting histreasure, than to securing it in the more ordinary way. When the storyhad again been told, Spike and his boatswain went on board the schooner,and, undressing, they prepared to descend into the cabin. The captainpaused a single instant to take a look at the sloop-of-war, and toexamine the state of the weather. It is probable some new impressionwas made on him by this inquiry, for, hailing Mulford, he ordered himto loosen the sails, and to sheet home, and hoist the foretopsail. Ina word, to “see all ready to cast off, and make sail on the brig at theshortest notice.” With this command he disappeared by the schooner’scompanion-way.

  Spike and his companion found the water in the cabin very much deeperthan they had supposed. With a view to comfort, the cabin-floor hadbeen sunk much lower than is usual on board American vessels, and thisbrought the water up nearly to the arm-pits of two men as short as ourcaptain and his sturdy little boatswain. The former grumbled a gooddeal, when he ascertained the fact, and said something about the mate’sbeing better fitted to make a search in such a place, but concludingwith the remark, that “the man who wants ticklish duty well done, mustsee to it himself.”

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

  “Here it is, Ben,” said the captain, “now for a dive among the Don’sval’ables. Should you pick up anything worth speaking of, you cancondemn it for salvage, as I mean to cast off, and quit the wrack themoment we’ve made sure of the doubloons.”

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

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

  “She makes but slow headway ag’in the current, sir; but a body wouldthink she might send in her boats.”

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

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

  “Ay, that’s the beginning of it!” exclaimed Spike. “I wonder that thefool has put it off so long.”

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

  “Ay, ay, I dare say you’re right enough in both opinions. They put suchguns o
n board their sloops-of-war, now-adays, as a fellow used to findin the lower batteries of a two-decker only in old times; and as forshot, why Uncle Sam pays, and they think it cheaper to fire one out of agun, than to take the trouble of drawing it.”

  “I believe here’s one of the bags, Captain Spike,” said the boatswain,making a dip, and coming up with one-half of the desired treasure in hisfist. “By George, I’ve grabbed him, sir; and the other bag can’t be faroff.”

  “Hand that over to me,” said the captain, a little authoritatively, “andtake a dive for the next.”

  As the boatswain was obeying this order, a second gun was heard, andSpike thought that the noise made by the near passage of a large shotwas audible also. He called out to Ben to “bear a hand, as the shipseems in ‘arnest.” But the head of the boatswain being under waterat the time, the admonition was thrown away. The fellow soon came up,however, puffing like a porpoise that has risen to the surface to blow.

  “Hand it over to me at once,” said Spike, stretching out his unoccupiedhand to receive the prize; “we have little time to lose.”

  “That’s sooner said than done, sir,” answered the boat-swain; “a boxhas driven down upon the bag, and there’s a tight jam. I got hold of theneck of the bag, and pulled like a horse, but it wouldn’t come no how.”

  “Show me the place, and let me have a drag at it. There goes another ofhis bloody guns!”

  Down went Spike, and the length of time he was under water, proved howmuch he was in earnest. Up he came at length, and with no better luckthan his companion. He had got hold of the bag, satisfied himself byfeeling its outside that it contained the doubloons, and hauled with allhis strength, but it would not come. The boatswain now proposed to takea jamming hitch with a rope around the neck of the bag, which was longenough to admit of such a fastening, and then to apply their unitedforce. Spike assented, and the boatswain rummaged about for a piece ofsmall rope to suit his purpose. At this moment Mulford appeared at thecompanion-way to announce the movements on the part of the sloop-of-war.He had been purposely tardy, in order to give the ship as much time aspossible; but he saw by the looks of the men that a longer delay mightexcite suspicion.

  “Below there!” called out the mate.

  “What’s wanting, sir?--what’s wanting, sir?” answered Spike; “let’s knowat once.”

  “Have you heard the guns, Captain Spike?”

  “Ay, ay, every grumbler of them. They’ve done no mischief, I trust, Mr.Mulford?”

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

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

  “All ready, sir,” answered the boatswain, once more coming up tobreathe. “Now for it, sir; a steady pull, and a pull all together.”

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

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

  “It means that the sloop-of-war has shot away the head of thisschooner’s foremast, sir, and that the shot has chipp’d a small pieceout of the heel of our maintop-mast--that’s all.”

  Though excessively provoked at the mate’s cool manner of replying, Spikesaw that he might lose all by being too tenacious about securing theremainder of the doubloons. Pronouncing in very energetic terms on UncleSam, and all his cruisers, an anathema that we do not care to repeat, hegave a surly order to Ben to “knock-off,” and abandoned his late design.In a minute he was on deck and dressed.

  “Cast off, lads,” cried the captain, as soon as on the deck of his ownbrig again, “and four of you man that boat. We have got half of yourtreasure, Se¤or Wan, but have been driven from the rest of it, as yousee. There is the bag; when at leisure we’ll divide it, and give thepeople their share. Mr. Mulford, keep the brig in motion, hauling uptoward the South Pass, while I go ashore for the ladies. I’ll meet youjust in the throat of the passage.”

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

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

  “Muster the women at once,” ordered the captain, “we have no time tolose, for that fellow will soon be firing broad-sides, and his shot nowrange half a mile beyond us.”

  “You’ll no more move the widow and her maid, than you’ll move theisland,” answered Jack, laconically.

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

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

  “Duty!--You little scamp, do you call tormenting honest traders in thisfashion the duty of any man?”

  “Well, captain, I’m no ways partic’lar about a word or two. Their‘ways,’ if you like that better than duty, sir.”

  “Where’s Rose? Is she down too, screaming and squalling?”

  “No, Captain Spike, no. Miss Rose is endeavouring, like a handsome youngChristian lady as she is, to pacify and mollify her aunt and Biddy; andright down sensible talk does she give them.”

  “Then she at least can go aboard the brig,” exclaimed Spike, with asudden animation, and an expression of countenance that Jack did not atall like.

  “I ray-y-ther think she’ll wish to hold on to the old lady,” observedthe steward’s-mate, a little emphatically.

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

  “Young women’s minds, when they are only nineteen, get set ag’in boys offifty-six without much assistance.”

  “Fifty-six yourself.”

  “I’m fifty-three--that I’ll own without making faces at it,” returnedJack, meekly; “and, Stephen Spike, you logged fifty-six your lastbirthday, or a false entry was made.”

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

  A scene that was sufficiently absurd met the view of Spike, when hefound himself in the presence of the females. The widow had thrownherself on the ground, and was grasping the cloth of the sail on whichthe tent had been erected with both her hands, and was s
creaming at thetop of her voice. Biddy’s imitation was not exactly literal, for she hadtaken a comfortable seat at the side of her mistress, but in the way ofcries, she rather outdid her principal.

  “We must be off,” cried Spike, somewhat unceremoniously. “Theman-of-war is blazing away, as if she was a firin’ minute-guns over ourdestruction, and I can wait no longer.”

  “I’ll not stir,” answered the widow--“I can’t stir--I shall be shot if Igo out. No, no, no--I’ll not stir an inch.”

  “We’ll be kilt!--we’ll be kilt!” echoed Biddy, “and a wicket murther’twill be in that same man, war or no war.”

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

  “Advance a step, and you’re a dead man, villain!” screamed Jack, hisvoice almost cracked with rage, and the effort he made to menace.

  Spike muttered an oath too revolting for our pages; but it was sucha curse as none but an old salt could give vent to, and that in thebitterness of his fiercest wrath. At that critical moment, while Rosewas swelling with indignation and wounded maiden pride, almost withinreach of his arms, looking more lovely than ever, as the flush of angerdeepened the colour in her cheeks, a fresh and deep report from oneof the guns of the sloop-of-war drew all eyes in her direction. Thebelching of that gun seemed to be of double the power of those which hadpreceded it, and jets of water, that were twenty feet in height, markedthe course of the formidable missile that was projected from the piece.The ship had, indeed, discharged one of those monster-cannons thatbear the name of a distinguished French engineer, but which should moreproperly be called by the name of the ingenious officer who is at thehead of our own ordnance, as they came originally from his inventivefaculties, though somewhat improved by their European adopter. Spikesuspected the truth, for he had heard of these “Pazans,” as he calledthem, and he watched the booming, leaping progress of the eight-inchshell that this gun threw, with the apprehension that unknown danger isapt to excite. As jet succeeded jet, each rising nearer and nearerto his brig, the interval of time between them seeming fearfully todiminish, he muttered oath upon oath. The last leap that the shell madeon the water was at about a quarter of a mile’s distance of the islet onwhich his people had deposited at least a hundred and fifty barrels ofhis spurious flour:-thence it flew, as it might be without an effort,with a grand and stately bound into the very centre of the barrels,exploding at the moment it struck. All saw the scattering of flour,which was instantly succeeded by the heavy though slightly stragglingexplosion of all the powder on the island. A hundred kegs were lighted,as it might be, in a common flash, and a cloud of white smoke poured outand concealed the whole islet, and all near it.

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

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

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

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

  Great and important changes, as has been already mentioned, have beenmade in the armaments of all the smaller cruisers within the last fewyears. Half a generation since, a ship of the rate--we do not say of thesize--of the vessel which was in chase of Spike and his craft, would nothave had it in her power to molest an enemy at the distance these twovessels were now apart. But recent improvements have made ships of thisnominal force formidable at nearly a league’s distance; more especiallyby means of their Paixhans and their shells.

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

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

  No sooner did the commanding officer of the sloop-of-war discover thisfact, and it was easy to trace the course of the shots by the jetsof water they cast into the air, and to see as well as to hear theexplosions of the shells,
than he ordered the guns pointed more towindward, as a means of counteracting the departure from the straightlines. This expedient succeeded in part, the solid shot falling muchnearer to the brig the moment the practice was resorted to. No shell wasfired for some little time after the new order was issued, and Spikeand his people began to hope these terrific missiles had ceased theirannoyance. The men cheered, finding their voices for the first timesince the danger had seemed so imminent, and Spike was heard animatingthem to their duty. As for Mulford, he was on the coach-house deck,working the brig, the captain having confided to him that delicate duty,the highest proof he could furnish of confidence in his seamanship. Thehandsome young mate had just made a half-board, in the neatest manner,shoving the brig by its means through a most difficult part of thepassage, and had got her handsomely filled again on the same tack,looking right out into open water, by a channel through which she couldnow stand on a very easy bowline. Everything seemed propitious, and thesloop-of-war’s solid shot began to drop into the water, a hundred yardsshort of the brig. In this state of things one of the Paixhans belchedforth its angry flame and sullen roar again. There was no mistaking thegun. Then came its mass of iron, a globe that would have weighed justsixty-eight pounds, had not sufficient metal been left out of itsinterior to leave a cavity to contain a single pound of powder. Itscourse, as usual, was to be marked by its path along the sea, as itbounded, half a mile at a time, from wave to wave. Spike saw by itsundeviating course that this shell was booming terrifically towardhis brig, and a cry to “look out for the shell,” caused the work to besuspended. That shell struck the water for the last time, within twohundred yards of the brig, rose dark and menacing in its furiousleap, but exploded at the next instant. The fragments of the iron werescattered on each side, and ahead. Of the last, three or four fell intothe water so near the vessel as to cast their spray on her decks.

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

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

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

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

  “Luff, Mr. Mulford--luff you may, sir,” cried Spike. No answer wasgiven.

  “D’ye hear there, Mr. Mulford?--it is luff you may, sir.”

  “Mr. Mulford is not aft, sir,” called out the man at the helm--“but luffit is, sir.”

  “Mr. Mulford not aft! Where’s the mate, man? Tell him he is wanted.”

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