was now plainly to be discerned by means of the lantern which he carried in his own hands, He gave some orders, in his customary authoritative way, and in a high key, after which he led the way from the wharf, walking side by side with the Senor Montefalderon.  These two last came up within a yard of the door of the house, where they paused, enabling those within not only to see their persons and the working of their countenances, but to hear all that was said; this last the more especially, since Spike never thought it necessary to keep his powerful voice within moderate limits.

“It’s hardly worth while, Don Wan, for you to go into the light-house,” said Spike. “’T is but a greasy, dirty place at the best, and one’s clothes are never the better for dealin’ with ile.  Here, Bill, take the lantern, and get a filled can, that we may go up and trim and fill the lamp, and make a blaze.  Bear a hand, lads, and I’ll be a’ter ye afore you reach the lantern.  Be careful with the flame about the ile, for seamen ought never to wish to see a lighthouse destroyed.”

“What do you expect to gain by lighting the lamps above, Don Esteban?” demanded the Mexican, when the sailors had disappeared in the light-house, taking their own lantern with them.

“It’s wisest to keep things reg’lar about this spot, Don Wan, which will prevent unnecessary suspicions.  But, as the brig stretches in toward the reef to-night, on our way back, the light will be a great assistance.  I am short of officers, you know, and want all the help of this sort I can get.”

“To be sincere with you, Don Esteban, I greatly regret you are so short of officers, and do not yet despair of inducing you to go and take off the mate, whom I hear you have left on a barren rock.  He was a fine young fellow, Senor Spike, and the deed was not one that you will wish to remember a few years hence.”

“The fellow run, and I took him at his word, Don Wan.  I’m not obliged to receive back a deserter unless it suits me.”

“We are all obliged to see we do not cause a fellow creature the loss of life.  This will prove the death of the charming young woman who is so much attached to him, unless you relent and are merciful!”

“Women have tender looks but tough hearts,” answered Spike, carelessly, though Mulford felt certain, by the tone of his voice, that great bitterness of feeling lay smothered beneath the affected indifference of his manner; “few die of love.”

“The young lady has not been on deck all day; and the Irish woman tells me that she does nothing but drink water—­the certain proof of a high fever.”

“Ay, ay, she keeps her room if you will, Don Wan, but she is not about to make a dupe of me by any such tricks.  I must go and look to the lamps, however, and you will find the graves you seek in the rear of this house, about thirty yards behind it, you’ll remember.  That’s a very pretty cross you’ve made, senor, and the skipper of the schooner’s soul will be all the better for settin’ it up at the head of his grave.”