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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1848], Jack Tier, volume 2 (Burgess, Stringer & Co., New York) [word count] [eaf079v2].
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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.

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.

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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

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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

“Ay, they're happy enough, now; I only hope it may

“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.”

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“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

“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,

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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

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

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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

“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,

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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

“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

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“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

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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 windward,
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

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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?”

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“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.


“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 tin-pot,
“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 shipmate,
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

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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

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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

“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

“The same; and there's the spot in which we was
stowed when they made us out from the brig; and hereaway,
a cable's length, more or less, the wreck of that
Mexican craft must lie.”

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“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

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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

“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

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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

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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

The party from the brigantine had run down before the

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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

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

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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 tablecloth,
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

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hands of the Mexicans, losing their lives in the manner

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

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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

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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,

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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,

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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

“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

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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

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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

“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

“All very true, Miss Rose; yet, you see, turtle-soup
brings us up, a'ter all. Would you like a glass of wine,

“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.”

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[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

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

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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

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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.

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

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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

“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

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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

“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

“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

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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.

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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1848], Jack Tier, volume 2 (Burgess, Stringer & Co., New York) [word count] [eaf079v2].
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