By this time the yawl was more than a mile from the wreck, all the man-of-war boats but one had lowered their sails, and were pulling slowly and with great labour back toward the ship, the cutter that kept on, evidently laying her course after the yawl, instead of standing on toward the wreck.  The brig was breaking up fast, with every probability that nothing would be left of her in a few more minutes.  As for the yawl, while clear of the white water, it got along without receiving many seas aboard, though the men in its bottom were kept bailing without intermission.  It appeared to Spike that so long as they remained on the reef, and could keep clear of breakers—­a most difficult thing, however—­they should fare better than if in deeper water, where the swell of the sea, and the combing of the waves, menaced so small and so deep-loaded a craft with serious danger.  As it was, two or three men could barely keep the boat clear, working incessantly, and much of the time with a foot or two of water in her.

Josh and Simon had taken their seats, side by side, with that sort of dependence and submission that causes the American black to abstain from mingling with the whites more than might appear seemly.  They were squeezed on to one end of the thwart by a couple of robust old sea-dogs, who were two of the very men with whom Spike had been in consultation.  Beneath that very thwart was stowed another confidant, to whom communications had also been made.  These men had sailed long in the Swash, and having been picked up in various ports, from time to time, as the brig had wanted hands, they were of nearly as many different nations as they were persons.  Spike had obtained a great ascendency over them by habit and authority, and his suggestions were now received as a sort of law.  As soon as the conference was ended, the captain returned to the helm.

A minute more passed, during which the captain was anxiously surveying the reef ahead, and the state of things astern.  Ahead was more white water—­the last before they should get clear of the reef; and astern it was now settled that the cutter that held on through the dangers of the place, was in chase of the yawl.  That Mulford was in her Spike made no doubt; and the thought embittered even his present calamities.  But the moment had arrived for something decided.  The white water ahead was much more formidable than any they had passed; and the boldest seamen there gazed at it with dread.  Spike made a sign to the boatswain, and commenced the execution of his dire project.

“I say, you Josh,” called out the captain, in the authoritative tones that are so familiar to all on board a ship, “pull in that fender that is dragging alongside.”