In order that the vessel might be as free as possible, Jack Tier was directed to skull the females ashore, in the brig’s yawl; Señor Montefalderon, a man of polished manners, as we maintain is very apt to be the case with Mexican gentlemen, whatever may be the opinion of this good republic on the subject, just at this moment, asked permission to be of the party. Mulford found an opportunity to beg Rose, if they landed at the light, to reconnoitre the place well, with a view to ascertain what facilities it could afford in an attempt to escape. They did land at the light, and glad enough were Mrs. Budd, Rose and Biddy to place their feet on _terrâ firmâ_ after so long a confinement to the narrow limits of a vessel. “Well,” said Jack Tier, as they walked up to the spot where the buildings stood, “this is a rum place for a light’us, Miss Rose, and I don’t wonder the keeper and his messmates has cleared out.” “I am very sorry to say,” observed Señor Montefalderon, whose countenance expressed the concern he really felt, “that the keeper and his only companion, a boy, were on board the schooner, and have perished in her, in common with so many of my poor countrymen. There are the graves of two whom we buried here last evening, after vain efforts to restore them to life!” “What a dreadful catastrophe it has been, Señor,” said Rose, whose sweet countenance eloquently expressed the horror and regret she so naturally felt—“Twenty fellow beings hurried into eternity without even an instant for prayer!” “You feel for them, Señorita—it is natural _you_ should, and it is natural that I, their countryman and leader, should feel for them, also. I do not know what God has in reserve for my unfortunate country! We may have cruel and unscrupulous men among us, Señorita, but we have thousands who are just, and brave, and honorable.” “So Mr. Mulford tells me, Señor, and he has been much in your ports, on the west coast.” “I like that young man, and wonder not a little at his and your situation in this brig—” rejoined the Mexican, dropping his voice so as not to be heard by their companions, as they walked a little ahead of Mrs. Budd and Biddy. “The Señor Spike is scarcely worthy to be _his_ commander or _your_ guardian.” “Yet you find him worthy of your intercourse and trust, Don Juan?” The Mexican shrugged his shoulders, and smiled equivocally; still, in a melancholy manner. It would seem he did not deem it wise to push this branch of the subject further, since he turned to another. “I like the Señor Mulford,” he resumed, “for his general deportment and principles, so far as I can judge of him on so short an acquaintance.” “Excuse me, Señor,” interrupted Rose, hurriedly “—but you never saw _him_ until you met him here.”