“I thought of all that, Mr. Mulford, but it came too late. When I first went aloft, I came out on the north-west side of the lantern, and took my seat, to look out for the sloop-of-war, as you bade me, sir. Well, there I was sweeping the horizon with the glass for the better part of an hour, sometimes fancyin’ I saw her, and then givin’ it up; for to this moment I am not sartain there isn’t a sail off here to the westward, turning up toward the light on a bowline; but if there be, she’s too far off to know any thing partic’lar about her. Well, sir, there I sat, looking out for the Poughkeepsie, for the better part of an hour, when I thought I would go round on t’other side of the lantern and take a look to windward. My heart was in my mouth, I can tell you, Miss Rose, when I saw the brig; and I felt both glad and sorry. Glad on my own account, and sorry on your’n. There she was, however, and no help for it, within two miles of this very spot, and coming down as if she despised touching the water at all. Now, what could I do? There wasn’t time, Mr. Mulford, to get the boat out, and the mast stepped, afore we should have been within reach of canister, and Stephen Spike would not have spared _that_, in order to get you again within his power.” “Depend on it, Harry, this is all true,” said Rose, earnestly. “I know Jack well, and can answer for his fidelity. He wishes to, and if he can he _will_ return to the brig, whither he thinks his duty calls him, but he will never willingly betray _us_—least of all _me_. Do I speak as I ought, Jack?” “Gospel truth, Miss Rose, and Mr. Mulford will get over this squall, as soon as he comes to think of matters as he ought. There’s my hand, maty, to show I bear no malice.” “I take it, Jack, for I must believe you honest, after all you have done for us. Excuse my warmth, which, if a little unreasonable, was somewhat natural under the circumstances. I suppose our case is now hopeless, and that we shall all be soon on board the brig again; for Spike will hardly think of abandoning me again on an island provisioned and fitted as is this!” “It’s not so sartain, sir, that you fall into his hands at all,” put in Jack. “The men of the brig will never come here of their own accord, depend on that, for sailors do not like graves. Spike has come in here a’ter the schooner’s chain, that he dropped into the water when he made sail from the sloop-of-war, at the time he was here afore, and is not expecting to find us here. No—no—he thinks we are beating up toward Key West at this very minute, if, indeed, he has missed us at all. ’Tis possible he believes the boat has got adrift by accident, and has no thought of our being out of the brig.” “That is impossible, Jack. Do you suppose he is ignorant that Rose is missing?”