“He has turned in for his afternoon's nap, and will sleep for just one hour, blow high, or blow low,” said the mate, placing himself at Rose's side on the trunk, which formed the usual seat for those who could presume to take the liberty of sitting down on the quarter-deck. “It's a habit with him, and we can count on it, with perfect security.” “His doing so, now, is a sign that he has no immediate fears of the revenue steamer?” “The coast is quite clear of her. We have taken good looks at every smoke, but can see nothing that appears like our late companion. She has doubtless gone to the eastward, on duty, and merely chased us, on her road.” “But why should she chase us, at all?” “Because we ran. Let a dog run, or a man run, or a cat run, ten to one but something starts in chase. It is human nature, I believe, to give chase; though I will admit there was something suspicious about that steamer's movements--her anchoring off the Fort, for instance. But let her go, for the present; are you getting things right, and to your mind, below decks?” “Very much so. The cabin is small, and the two state-rooms the merest drawers that ever were used, but, by putting everything in its place, we have made sufficient room, and no doubt shall be comfortable.” “I am sorry you did not call on me for assistance. The mate has a prescriptive right to help stow away.” “We made out without your services,” returned Rose, slightly blushing--“Jack Tier, as he is called, Josh's assistant, is a very useful person, and has been our adviser and manager. I want no better for such services.” “He is a queer fellow, all round. Take him altogether, I hardly ever saw so droll a being! As thick as he's long, with a waddle like a duck, a voice that is cracked, hair like bristles, and knee high; the man might make a fortune as a show. Tom Thumb is scarcely a greater curiosity.” “He is singular in 'build,' as you call it,” returned Rose, laughing, “but, I can assure you that he is a most excellent fellow in his way--worth a dozen of Josh. Do you know, Harry, that I suspect he has strong feelings towards Captain Spike; though whether of like or dislike, friendship or enmity, I am at a loss to say.” “And why do you think that he has any feeling at all? I have heard Spike say he left the fellow ashore, somewhere down on the Spanish Main, or in the Islands, quite twenty years since; but a sailor would scarce carry a grudge so long a time, for such a thing as that.” “I do not know--but feeling there is, and much of it, too; though, whether hostile or friendly, I will not undertake to say.” “I'll look to the chap, now you tell me this. It is a little odd, the manner in which he got on board us, taken in connection with the company he was in, and a discovery may be made. Here he is, however; and, as I keep the keys of the magazine, he can do us no great harm, unless he scuttles the brig.” “Magazine! Is there such a thing here?”