“I hope that money may do some worthy fellow good yet. It's Mexican
gold, and that's inemy's gold, and might be condemned by law, I do
suppose. Stephen had a hankerin' a'ter it, but he did not get it. It
come easy enough to the next man that tried. That Spike 's a willian,
and the gold was too good for him. He has no conscience at all to think
of a gal of nineteen! And one fit for his betters, in the bargain. The
time has been when Stephen Spike might have pretended to Rose Budd's
equal. That much I'll ever maintain, but that time's gone; and, what is
more, it will never come again. I should like Mulford better if he had a
little less conscience. Conscience may do for Uncle Sam's ships, but
it is sometimes in the way aboard a trading craft. What can a fellow
do with a conscience when dollars is to be smuggled off, or tobacco
smuggled ashore? I do suppose I've about as much conscience as it is
useful to have, and I've got ashore in my day twenty thousand dollars'
worth of stuff, of one sort or another, if I've got ashore the valie
of ten dollars. But Spike carries on business on too large a scale, and
many's the time I've told him so. I could have forgiven him anything but
this attempt on Rose Budd; and he's altogether too old for that, to say
nothing of other people's rights. He's an up-and-down willian, and a
body can make no more, nor any less of him. That soup must be near done,
and I'll hoist the signal for grub.”
This signal was a blue-peter of which one had been brought ashore to
signal the brig; and with which Jack now signalled the schooner. If the
reader will turn his eyes toward the last named vessel, he will find
the guests whom Tier expected to surround his table. Rose, her aunt, and
Biddy were all seated, under an awning made by a sail, on the deck of
the schooner, which now floated so buoyantly as to show that she had
materially lightened since last seen. Such indeed was the fact, and he
who had been the instrument of producing this change, appeared on deck
in the person of Mulford, as soon as he was told that the blue-peter of
Jack Tier was flying.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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