“I understand you, Captain Spike.  The ladies shall l’arn no more from me than they know already.”

“Thank ’e for that Jack—­thank ’e with all my heart Shipmates of our standing ought to be fast friends; and so you’ll find me, if you’ll only sail under the true colours, my man.”

At that moment Jack longed to let the captain know how strenuously he had insisted that very night on rejoining his vessel; and this at a time, too, when the brig was falling into disrepute.  But this he could not do, without betraying the secret of the lovers—­so he chose to say nothing.

“There is no use in blabbing all a man knows, and the galley is a sad place for talking.  Galley news is poor news, I suppose you know, Jack.”

“I’ve hear’n say as much on board o’ man-of-war.  It’s a great place for the officers to meet and talk, and smoke, in Uncle Sam’s crafts; and what a body hears in such places, is pretty much newspaper stuff, I do suppose.”

“Ay, ay, that’s it; not to be thought of half-an-hour after it has been spoken.  Here’s a doubloon for you, Jack; and all for the sake of old times.  Now, tell me, my litle fellow, how do the ladies come on?  Does n’t Miss Rose get over her mourning on account of the mate?  Ar’ n’t we to have the pleasure of seein’ her on deck soon?”

“I can’t answer for the minds and fancies of young women, Captain Spike.  They are difficult to understand; and I would rather not meddle with what I can’t understand.”

“Poh, poh, man; you must get over that.  You might be of great use to me, Jack, in a very delicate affair—­for you know how it is with women; they must be handled as a man would handle this brig among breakers; Rose, in partic’lar, is as skittish as a colt.”

“Stephen Spike,” said Jack, solemnly, but on so low a key that it entirely changed his usually harsh and cracked voice to one that sounded soft, if not absolutely pleasant, “do you never think of hereafter?  Your days are almost run; a very few years, in your calling it may be a very few weeks, or a few hours, and time will be done with you, and etarnity will commence.—­Do you never think of a hereafter?”

Spike started to his feet, gazing at Jack intently; then he wiped the perspiration from his face, and began to pace the deck rapidly, muttering to himself—­“this has been a most accursed night!  First the mate, and now this! Blast me, but I thought it was a voice from the grave!  Graves! can’t they keep those that belong to them, or have rocks and waves no graves?”

What more passed through the mind of the captain must remain a secret, for he kept it to himself; nor did he take any further notice of his companion.  Jack, finding that he was unobserved, passed quietly below, and took the place in his berth, which he had only temporarily abandoned.

Just as the day dawned, the Swash reached the vicinity of the wreck again.  Sail was shortened, and the brig stood in until near enough for the purpose of her commander, when she was hove-to, so near the mast-heads that, by lowering the yawl, a line was sent out to the fore-mast, and the brig was hauled close alongside.  The direction of the reef at that point formed a lee; and the vessel lay in water sufficiently smooth for her object.