“No sharks in that latitude and longitude, eh Jack?”
“Plenty on 'em, sir; and I thought they would have got us all, at one time. More than twenty set of fins were in sight at once, for several hours.”
“You could hardly have supplied the gentlemen with a leg, or an arm, each. But where was the boat all this time—you had the light-house boat in tow, I suppose?”
“She had been in tow, sir; but Madam Budd talked so much dictionary to the painter, that it got adrift.”
“Yet I found you all in it.”
“Very true, sir. Mr. Mulford swam quite a mile to reach the rocks, and found the boat aground on one on 'em. As soon as he got the boat, he made sail, and came and took us off. We had reason to thank God he could do so.”
Spike looked dark and thoughtful. He muttered the words “swam,” and “rocks,” but was too cautious to allow any expressions to escape him, that might betray to the Mexican officer that which was uppermost in his mind. He was silent, however, for quite a minute, and Jack saw that he had awakened a dangerous source of distrust in the captain's breast.
“Well, Jack,” resumed Spike, after the pause, “can you tell us anything of the doubloons? I nat'rally expected to find them in the boat, but there were none to be seen. You scarcely pumped the schooner out, without overhauling her lockers, and falling in with them doubloons.”
“We found them, sure enough, and had them ashore with us, in the tent, down to the moment when we sailed.”
“When you took them off to the schooner, eh? My life for it, the gold was not forgotten.”