“Cast off, lads,” cried the captain, as soon as on the deck of his own brig again, “and four of you man that boat. We have got half of your treasure, Señor Wan, but have been driven from the rest of it, as you see. There is the bag; when at leisure we’ll divide it, and give the people their share. Mr. Mulford, keep the brig in motion, hauling up toward the South Pass, while I go ashore for the ladies. I’ll meet you just in the throat of the passage.” This said, Spike tumbled into his boat, and was pulled ashore. As for Mulford, though he cast many an anxious glance toward the islet, he obeyed his orders, keeping the brig standing off and on, under easy canvas, but working her up toward the indicated passage. Spike was met by Jack Tier on the beach of the little island. “Muster the women at once,” ordered the captain, “we have no time to lose, for that fellow will soon be firing broadsides, and his shot now range half a mile beyond us.” “You’ll no more move the widow and her maid, than you’ll move the island,” answered Jack, laconically. “Why should I not move them? Do they wish to stay here and starve?” “It’s little that they think of _that_. The sloop-of-war no sooner begun to fire than down went Mrs. Budd on the canvas floor of the tent, and set up just such a screaming as you may remember she tried her hand at the night the revenue craft fired into us. Biddy lay down alongside of her mistress, and at every gun, they just scream as loud as they can, as if they fancied they might frighten off Uncle Sam’s men from their duty.” “Duty!—You little scamp, do you call tormenting honest traders in this fashion the duty of any man?” “Well, captain, I’m no ways partic’lar about a word or two. Their ‘ways,’ if you like that better than duty, sir.” “Where’s Rose? Is she down too, screaming and squalling?” “No, Capt. Spike, no. Miss Rose is endeavoring, like a handsome young Christian lady as she is, to pacify and mollify her aunt and Biddy; and right down sensible talk does she give them.” “Then she at least can go aboard the brig,” exclaimed Spike, with a sudden animation, and an expression of countenance that Jack did not at all like. “I _ray-y-ther_ think she’ll wish to hold on to the old lady,” observed the steward’s-mate, a little emphatically. “You be d—d,” cried Spike, fiercely; “when your opinion is wanted, I’ll ask for it. If I find you’ve been setting that young woman’s mind ag’in me, I’ll toss you overboard, as I would the offals of a shark.” “Young women’s minds, when they are only nineteen, get set ag’in boys of fifty-six without much assistance.” “Fifty-six yourself.” “I’m fifty-three—that I’ll own without making faces at it,” returned Jack, meekly; “and, Stephen Spike, you logged fifty-six your last birthday, or a false entry was made.”