“Nothing can be more natural to me, lieutenant, than a fine ship standing on her canvas. It's an object to improve the heart and to soften the understanding.” “So I should think, ma'am,” returned Wallace, a little quizzically, “judging from the effect on yourself.” This speech, unfortunately timed as it was, wrought a complete change in Rose's feelings, and she no longer wished to exchange the Swash for the Poughkeepsie. She saw that her aunt was laughed at in secret, and that was a circumstance that never failed to grate on every nerve in her system. She had been prepared to second and sustain the intended application--she was now determined to oppose it. “Yes, sir,” resumed the unconscious relict, “and to soften the understanding. Lieutenant, did you ever cross the Capricorn?” “No less than six times; three going and three returning, you know.” “And did Neptune come on board you, and were you shaved?” “Everything was done secundem artem, ma'am. The razor was quite an example of what are called in poetry 'thoughts too deep for tears.' ” “That must have been delightful. As for me, I'm quite a devotee of Neptune's; but I'm losing time, for no doubt your ship is all ready to pull away and carry on sail--” “Aunt, may I say a word to you before you go any further,” put in Rose in her quiet but very controlling way. The aunt complied, and Wallace, as soon as left alone, felt like a man who was released from a quick-sand, into which every effort to extricate himself only plunged him so much the deeper. At this moment the ship hailed, and the lieutenant took a hasty leave of Spike, motioned to the midshipman to precede him, and followed the latter into his boat. Spike saw his visiter off in person, tending the side and offering the man-ropes with his own hands. For this civility Wallace thanked him, calling out as his boat pulled him from the brig's side--“If we 'pull away,'” accenting the “pull” in secret derision of the relict's mistake, “you can pull away; our filling the topsail being a sign for you to do the same.” “There you go, and joy go with you,” muttered Spike, as he descended from the gangway. “A pretty kettle of fish would there have been cooked had I let him have his two barrels of flour.” The man-of-war's cutter was soon under the lee of the ship, where it discharged its freight, when it was immediately run up. During the whole time Wallace had been absent, Captain Mull and his officers remained on the poop, principally occupied in examining and discussing the merits of the Swash. No sooner had their officer returned, however, than an order was given to fill away, it being supposed that the Poughkeepsie had no further concern with the brigantine. As for Wallace, he ascended to the poop and made the customary report.