Mulford would have liked the appearance of things better had his old commander cursed him, and betrayed other signs of the fury that was boiling in his very soul.  On the contrary, never had Stephen Spike seemed more calm, or under better self-command.  He smiled, and saluted Mrs. Budd, just as if nothing unpleasant had occurred, and alluded to the sharpness of the chase with facetiousness and seeming good-humour.  The females were deceived by this manner, and hoped, after all, that the worst that would happen would be a return to their old position on board the Swash.  This was being so much better off than their horrible situation on the wreck, that the change was not frightful to them.

“What has become of the schooner, Mr. Mulford?” asked Spike, as the boats began to pass down the channel to return to the brig—­two of the Swash’s men taking their seats in that which had been captured, along with their commander, while the other two got a tow from the use of the sail.  “I see you have the boat here that we used alongside of her, and suppose you know something of the craft itself.”

“She capsized with us in a squall,” answered the mate, “and we only left the wreck this morning.”

“Capsized!—­hum—­that was a hard fate, to be sure, and denotes bad seamanship.  Now I’ve sailed all sorts of craft these forty years, or five-and-thirty at least, and never cap-sized anything in my life.  Stand by there for’ard to hold on by that rock.”

A solitary cap of the coral rose above the water two or three feet, close to the channel, and was the rock to which Spike alluded.  It was only some fifty feet in diameter, and of an oval form, rising quite above the ordinary tides, as was apparent by its appearance.  It is scarcely necessary to say it had no other fresh water than that which occasionally fell on its surface, which surface being quite smooth, retained very little of the rain it received.  The boat was soon alongside of this rock, where it was held broadside-to by the two seamen.

“Mr. Mulford, do me the favour to step up here,” said Spike, leading the way on to the rock himself.  “I have a word to say to you before we get on board the old Molly once more.”

Mulford silently complied, fully expecting that Spike intended to blow his brains out, and willing the bloody deed should be done in a way to be as little shocking to Rose as circumstances would allow.  But Spike manifested no such intention.  A more refined cruelty was uppermost in his mind; and his revenge was calculated, and took care to fortify itself with some of the quibbles and artifices of the law.  He might not be exactly right in his legal reservations, but he did not the less rely on their virtue.

“Hark’e, Mr. Mulford,” said Spike, sharply, as soon as both were on the rock, “you have run from my brig, thereby showing your distaste for her; and I’ve no disposition to keep a man who wishes to quit me.  Here you are, sir, on terrum firm, as the scholars call it; and here you have my full permission to remain.  I wish you a good morning, sir; and will not fail to report, when we get in, that you left the brig of your own pleasure.”