Part 7

“So I supposed; I find it hard to believe it, I do. It may be a warning to keep us from coming any more to the Dry Tortugas; and I must say I have little heart for returning to this place, after all that has fell out here. We can go to the wreck, fish up the doubloons, and be off for Yucatan. Once in one of your ports, I make no question that the merits of Molly will make themselves understood, and that we shall soon agree on a price.”

“What use could we put the brig to, Don Esteban, if we had her all ready for sea?”

“That is a strange question to ask in time of war! Give _me_ such a craft as the Molly, with sixty or eighty men on board her, in a war like this, and her ’arnin’s should not fall short of half a million within a twelvemonth.”

“Could we engage you to take charge of her, Don Esteban?”

“That would be ticklish work, Don Wan. But we can see. No one knows what he will do until he is tried. In for a penny, in for a pound. A fellow never knows! Ha! ha! ha! Don Wan, we live in a strange world—yes, in a strange world.”

“We live in strange _times_, Don Esteban, as the situation of my poor country proves. But let us talk this matter over a little more in confidence.”

And they did thus discuss the subject. It was a singular spectacle to see an honorable man, one full of zeal of the purest nature in behalf of his own country, sounding a traitor as to the terms on which he might be induced to do all the harm he could to those who claimed his allegiance. Such sights, however, are often seen; our own especial objects too frequently blinding us to the obligations that we owe morality, so far as not to be instrumental in effecting even what we conceive to be good, by questionable agencies. But the Señor Montefalderon kept in view, principally, his desire to be useful to Mexico, blended a little too strongly, perhaps, with the wishes of a man who was born near the sun to avenge his wrongs, real or fancied.

While this dialogue was going on between Spike and his passenger, as they paced the quarter-deck, one quite as characteristic occurred in the galley, within twenty feet of them—Simon, the cook, and Josh, the Steward, being the interlocutors. As they talked secrets, they conferred together with closed doors, though few were ever disposed to encounter the smoke, grease, and fumes of their narrow domains, unless called thither by hunger.

“What _you_ t’ink of dis matter, Josh?” demanded Simon, whose skull having the well-known density of his race, did not let internal ideas out, or external ideas in as readily as most men’s. “Our young mate _was_ at de light-house, beyond all controwersy; and how can he be den on dat rock over yonder, too?”

“Dat is imposserbul,” answered Josh; “derefore I says it isn’t true. I surposes you know dat what is imposserbul isn’t true, Simon. Nobody can’t be out yonder and down here at der same time. Dat is imposserbul, Simon. But what I wants to intermate to you will explain all dis difficulty; and it do show de raal super’ority of a colored man over de white poperlation. Now, you mark my words, cook, and be full of admiration! Jack Tier came back along wid de Mexican gentle’em, in my anchor-watch, dis very night! You see, in de first place, ebbery t’ing come to pass in nigger’s watch.”

Here the two dark-skinned worthies haw-haw’d to their heart’s content; laughing very much as a magistrate or a minister of the gospel might be fancied to laugh, the first time he saw a clown at a circus. The merriment of a negro will have its course, in spite of ghosts, or of any thing else; and neither the cook nor the steward dreamed of putting in another syllable until their laugh was fairly and duly ended. Then the cook made his remarks.

“How Jack Tier comin’ back explain der differculty, Josh?” asked Simon.

“Didn’t Jack go away wid Miss Rose and de mate in de boat dat got adrift, you know, in Jack’s watch on deck?”

Here the negroes laughed again, their imaginations happening to picture to each, at the same instant, the mystification about the boat; Biddy having told Josh in confidence, the manner in which the party had returned to the brig, while he and Simon were asleep; which fact the steward had already communicated to the cook. To these two beings, of an order in nature different from all around them, and of a simplicity and of habits that scarce placed them on a level with the intelligence of the humblest white man, all these circumstances had a sort of mysterious connection, out of which peeped much the most conspicuously to their faculties, the absurdity of the captain’s imagining that a boat had got adrift, which had, in truth, been taken away by human hands. Accordingly, they laughed it out; and when they had done laughing, they returned again to the matter before them with renewed interest in the subject.

“Well, how all dat explain dis differculty?” repeated Simon.

“In dis wery manner, cook,” returned the steward, with a little dignity in his manner. “Ebbery t’ing depend on understanding, I s’pose you know. If Mr. Mulford got taken off dat rock by Miss Rose and Jack Tier, wid de boat, and den dey comes here altogedder; and den Jack Tier, he get on board and tell Biddy all dis matter, and den Biddy tell Josh, and den Josh tell the cook—what for you surprise, you black debbil, one bit?”

“Dat all!” exclaimed Simon.

“Dat just all—dat ebbery bit of it, don’t I say.”

Here Simon burst into such a fit of loud laughter that it induced Spike himself to shove aside the galley-door, and thrust his own frowning visage into the dark hole within, to inquire the cause.

“What’s the meaning of this uproar?” demanded the captain, all the more excited because he felt that things had reached a pass that would not permit him to laugh himself. “Do you fancy yourself on the Hook, or at the Five Points?”

The Hook and the Five Points are two pieces of tabooed territory within the limits of the good town of Manhattan, that are getting to be renowned for their rascality and orgies. They probably want nothing but the proclamation of a governor in vindication of their principles, annexed to a pardon of some of their unfortunate children, to render both classical. If we continue to make much further progress in political logic, and in the same direction as that in which we have already proceeded so far, neither will probably long be in want of this illustration. Votes can be given by the virtuous citizens of both these purlieus, as well as by the virtuous citizens of the anti-rent districts, and votes contain the essence of all such principles, as well as of their glorification.

“Do you fancy yourselves on the Hook, or at the Five Points?” demanded Spike, angrily.

“Lor’, no sir!” answered Simon, laughing at each pause with all his heart. “Only laughs a little at _ghost_—dat all, sir.”

“Laugh at ghost? Is that a subject to laugh at? Have a care, you black rascal, or he will visit you in your galley here, when you will least want to see him.”

“No care much for _him_, sir,” returned Simon, laughing away as hard as ever. “_Sich_ a ghost oughtn’t to skear little baby.”

“_Such_ a ghost? And what do you know of _this_ ghost more than any other?”

“Well, I seed him, Capt. Spike; and what a body sees, he is acquainted wid.”

“You saw an image that looked as much like Mr. Mulford, my late mate, as one timber-head in this brig is like another.”

“Yes, sir, he like enough—must say _dat_—so wery like, couldn’t see any difference.”

As Simon concluded this remark, he burst out into another fit of laughter, in which Josh joined him, heart and soul, as it might be. The uninitiated reader is not to imagine the laughter of those blacks to be very noisy, or to be raised on a sharp, high key. They _could_ make the welkin ring, in sudden bursts of merriment, on occasion, but, at a time like this, they rather caused their diversion to be developed by sounds that came from the depths of their chests. A gleam of suspicion that these blacks were acquainted with some fact that it might be well for him to know, shot across the mind of Spike; but he was turned from further inquiry by a remark of Don Juan, who intimated that the mirth of such persons never had much meaning to it, expressing at the same time a desire to pursue the more important subject in which they were engaged. Admonishing the blacks to be more guarded in their manifestations of merriment, the captain closed the door on them, and resumed his walk up and down the quarter-deck. As soon as left to themselves, the blacks broke out afresh, though in a way so guarded, as to confine their mirth to the galley.

“Capt. Spike t’ink _dat_ a ghost!” exclaimed Simon, with contempt.

“Guess if he see _raal_ ghost, he find ’e difference,” answered Josh. “One look at raal sperit wort’ two at dis object.”

Simon’s eyes now opened like two saucers, and they gleamed, by the light of the lamp they had, like dark balls of condensed curiosity, blended with awe, on his companion.

“You ebber see him, Josh?” he asked, glancing over each shoulder hurriedly, as it might be, to make sure that he could not see “him,” too.

“How you t’ink I get so far down the wale of life, Simon, and nebber see sich a t’ing? I seed t’ree of the crew of the ‘Maria Sheffington,’ that was drowned by deir boat’s capsizing, when we lay at Gibraltar, jest as plain as I see you now. Then—”

But it is unnecessary to repeat Josh’s experiences in this way, with which he continued to entertain and terrify Simon for the next half hour. This is just the difference between ignorance and knowledge. While Spike himself, and every man in his brig who belonged forward, had strong misgivings as to the earthly character of the figure they had seen at the foot of the light-house, these negroes laughed at their delusion, because they happened to be in the secret of Mulford’s escape from the rock, and of that of his actual presence at the Tortugas. When, however, the same superstitious feeling was brought to bear on circumstances that lay _without _the sphere of their exact information, they became just as dependent and helpless as all around them; more so, indeed, inasmuch as their previous habits and opinions disposed them to a more profound credulity.

It was midnight before any of the crew of the Swash sought their rest that night. The captain had to remind them that a day of extraordinary toil was before them, ere he could get one even to quit the deck; and when they did go below, it was to continue to discuss the subject of what they had seen at the Dry Tortugas. It appeared to be the prevalent opinion among the people, that the late event foreboded evil to the Swash, and long as most of these men had served in the brig, and much as they had become attached to her, had she gone into port that night, nearly every man forward would have run before morning. But fatigue and wonder, at length, produced their effect, and the vessel was silent as was usual at that hour. Spike himself lay down in his clothes, as he had done ever since Mulford had left him; and the brig continued to toss the spray from her bows, as she bore gallantly up against the trades, working her way to windward. The light was found to be of great service, as it indicated the position of the reef, though it gradually sank in the western horizon, until near morning it fell entirely below it.

At this hour Spike appeared on deck again, where, for the first time since their interview on the morning of Harry’s and Rose’s escape, he laid his eyes on Jack Tier. The little dumpling-looking fellow was standing in the waist, with his arms folded sailor-fashion, as composedly as if nothing had occurred to render his meeting with the captain any way of a doubtful character. Spike approached near the person of the steward, whom he surveyed from head to foot, with a sort of contemptuous superiority, ere he spoke.

“So, Master Tier;” at length the captain commenced, “you have deigned to turn out at last, have you? I hope the day’s duty you’ve forgotten will help to pay for the light-house boat, that I understand you’ve lost for me also.”

“What signifies a great clumsy boat that the brig couldn’t hoist in nor tow,” answered Jack, coolly, turning short round at the same time, but not condescending to “uncoil” his arms as he did so, a mark of indifference that would probably have helped to mystify the captain, had he even actually suspected that any thing was wrong beyond the supposed accident to the boat in question. “If you had had the boat astarn, Capt. Spike, an order would have been given to cut it adrift the first time the brig made sail on the wind.”

“Nobody knows, Jack; that boat would have been very useful to us while at work about the wreck. You never even turned out this morning to let me know where that craft lay, as you promised to do, but left us to find it out by our wits.”

“There was no occasion for my telling you any thing about it, sir, when the mast-heads was to be seen above water. As soon as I heard that them ’ere mast-heads was out of water, I turned over and went to sleep upon it. A man can’t be on the doctor’s list and on duty at the same time.”

Spike looked hard at the little steward, but he made no further allusion to his being off duty, or to his failing to stand pilot to the brig as she came through the passage in quest of the schooner’s remains. The fact was, that he had discovered the mast-heads himself just as he was on the point of ordering Jack to be called, having allowed him to remain in his berth to the last moment after his watch, according to a species of implied faith that is seldom disregarded among seamen. Once busied on the wreck, Jack was forgotten, having little to do in common with any one on board, but that which the captain termed the “women’s mess.”

“Come aft, Jack,” resumed Spike, after a considerable pause, during the whole of which he had stood regarding the little steward as if studying his person, and through that his character. “Come aft to the trunk; I wish to catechise you a bit.”

“Catechise!” repeated Tier, in an under tone, as he followed the captain to the place mentioned. “It’s a long time since I have done any thing at _that_!”

“Ay, come hither,” resumed Spike, seating himself at his ease on the trunk, while Jack stood near by, his arms still folded, and his rotund little form as immovable, under the plunges that the lively brig made into the head-seas that she was obliged to meet, as if a timber-head in the vessel itself. “You keep your sea-legs well, Jack, short as they are.”

“No wonder for that, Capt. Spike; for the last twenty years I’ve scarce passed a twelvemonth ashore; and what I did before that, no one can better tell than yourself since we was ten good years shipmates.”

“So you say, Jack, though I do not remember _you_ as well as you seem to remember _me_. Do you not make the time too long?”

“Not a day, sir. Ten good and happy years did we sail together, Capt. Spike; and all that time in this very—”

“Hush—h-u-s-h, man, hush! There is no need of telling the Molly’s age to every body. I may wish to sell her some day, and then her great experience will be no recommendation. You should recollect that the Molly is a female, and the ladies do not like to hear of their ages after five-and-twenty.”

Jack made no answer, but he dropped his arms to their natural position, seeming to wait the captain’s communication, first referring to his tobacco-box and taking a fresh quid.

“If you was with me in the brig, Jack, at the time you mention,” continued Spike, after another long and thoughtful pause, “you must remember many little things that I don’t wish to have known; especially while Mrs. Budd and her handsome niece is aboard here.”

“I understand you, Capt. Spike. The ladies shall l’arn no more from me than they know already.”

“Thank ’e for that Jack—thank ’e, with all my heart. Shipmates of our standing ought to be fast friends; and so you’ll find me, if you’ll only sail under the true colors, my man.”

At that moment Jack longed to let the captain know how strenuously he had insisted that very night on rejoining his vessel; and this at a time, too, when the brig was falling into disrepute; but this he could not do, without betraying the secret of the lovers—so he chose to say nothing.

“There is no use in blabbing all a man knows, and the galley is a sad place for talking. Galley news is poor news, I suppose you know, Jack.”

“I’ve hear’n say as much on board o’ man-of-war. It’s a great place for the officers to meet and talk, and smoke, in Uncle Sam’s crafts; and what a body hears in such places, is pretty much newspaper stuff, I do suppose.”

“Ay, ay, that’s it; not to be thought of half an hour after it has been spoken. Here’s a doubloon for you, Jack; and all for the sake of old times. Now, tell me, my little fellow, how do the ladies come on? Doesn’t Miss Rose get over her mourning on account of the mate? Ar’n’t we to have the pleasure of seein’ her on deck soon?”

“I can’t answer for the minds and fancies of young women, Capt. Spike. They are difficult to understand; and I would rather not meddle with what I can’t understand.”

“Poh, poh, man; you must get over that. You might be of great use to me, Jack, in a very delicate affair—for you know how it is with women; they must be handled as a man would handle this brig among breakers; Rose, in partic’lar, is as skittish as a colt.”

“Stephen Spike,” said Jack, solemnly, but on so low a key that it entirely changed his usually harsh and cracked voice to one that sounded soft, if not absolutely pleasant, “do you never think of hereafter? Your days are almost run; a very few years, in your calling it may be a very few weeks, or a few hours, and time will be done with you, and etarnity will commence—do you never think of a hereafter?”

Spike started to his feet, gazing at Jack intently; then he wiped the perspiration from his face, and began to pace the deck rapidly, muttering to himself—“this has been a most accursed night! First the mate, and now _this_! Blast me, but I thought it was a voice from the grave! Graves! can’t they keep those that belong to them, or have rocks and waves no graves?”

What more passed through the mind of the captain must remain a secret, for he kept it to himself; nor did he take any further notice of his companion. Jack, finding that he was unobserved, passed quietly below, and took the place in his berth, which he had only temporarily abandoned.

Just as the day dawned, the Swash reached the vicinity of the wreck again. Sail was shortened, and the brig stood in until near enough for the purpose of her commander, when she was hove-to, so near the mast-heads that, by lowering the yawl, a line was sent out to the fore-mast, and the brig was hauled close alongside. The direction of the reef at that point formed a lee; and the vessel lay in water sufficiently smooth for her object.

This was done soon after the sun had risen, and Spike now ordered all hands called, and began his operations in earnest. By sounding carefully around the schooner when last here, he had ascertained her situation to his entire satisfaction. She had settled on a shelf of the reef, in such a position that her bows lay in a sort of cradle, while her stern was several feet nearer to the surface than the opposite extremity. This last fact was apparent, indeed, by the masts themselves, the lower mast aft being several feet out of water, while the fore-mast was entirely buried, leaving nothing but the fore-topmast exposed. On these great premises Spike had laid the foundation of the practical problem he intended to solve.

No expectation existed of ever getting the schooner afloat again. All that Spike and the Señor Montefalderon now aimed at, was to obtain the doubloons, which the former thought could be got at in the following manner. He knew that it would be much easier handling the wreck, so far as its gravity was concerned, while the hull continued submerged. He also knew that one end could be raised with a comparatively trifling effort, so long as the other rested on the rock. Under these circumstances, therefore, he proposed merely to get slings around the after body of the schooner, as near her stern-post, indeed, as would be safe, and to raise that extremity of the vessel to the surface, leaving most of the weight of the craft to rest on the bows. The difference between the power necessary to effect this much, and that which would be required to raise the whole wreck, would be like the difference in power necessary to turn over a log with one end resting on the ground, and turning the same log by lifting it bodily in the arms, and turning it in the air. With the stern once above water, it would be easy to come at the bag of doubloons, which Jack Tier had placed in a locker above the transoms.

The first thing was to secure the brig properly, in order that she might bear the necessary strain. This was done very much as has been described already, in the account of the manner in which she was secured and supported in order to raise the schooner at the Dry Tortugas. An anchor was laid abreast and to windward, and purchases were brought to the masts, as before. Then the bight of the chain brought from the Tortugas, was brought under the schooner’s keel, and counter-purchases, leading from both the fore-mast and main-mast of the brig, was brought to it, and set taut. Spike now carefully examined all his fastenings, looking to his cables as well as his mechanical power aloft, heaving in upon this, and veering out upon that, in order to bring the Molly square to her work; after which he ordered the people to knock-off for their dinners. By that time it was high noon.

While Stephen Spike was thus employed on the wreck, matters and things were not neglected at the Tortugas. The Poughkeepsie had no sooner anchored, than Wallace went on board and made his report. Capt. Mull then sent for Mulford, with whom he had a long personal conference. This officer was getting gray, and consequently he had acquired experience. It was evident to Harry, at first, that he was regarded as one who had been willingly engaged in an unlawful pursuit, but who had abandoned it to push dearer interests in another quarter. It was some time before the commander of the sloop-of-war could divest himself of this opinion, though it gradually gave way before the frankness of the mate’s manner, and the manliness, simplicity, and justice of his sentiments. Perhaps Rose had some influence also in bringing about this favorable change.

Wallace did not fail to let it be known that turtle-soup was to be had ashore; and many was the guest our heroine had to supply with that agreeable compound, in the course of the morning. Jack Tier had manifested so much skill in the preparation of the dish, that its reputation soon extended to the cabin, and the captain was induced to land, in order to ascertain how far rumor was or was not a liar, on this interesting occasion. So ample was the custom, indeed, that Wallace had the consideration to send one of the ward-room servants to the light-house, in order to relieve Rose from a duty that was getting to be a little irksome. She was “seeing company” as a bride, in a novel and rather unpleasant manner; and it was in consequence of a suggestion of the “ship’s gentleman,” that the remains of the turtle were transferred to the vessel, and were put into the coppers, _secundum artem_, by the regular cooks.