“I cannot quit my aunt,” said Rose, quickly, “so we will not even think of any such thing.”
“No, ’twould never do to abandon the missus,” said Biddy, “and she on the wrack wid us, and falin’ the want of wather as much as ourselves.”
“We three have sartainly gone through much in company,” returned Jack, “and it ought to make us friends for life.”
“I trust it will, Jack; I hope, when we return to New York, to see you among us, anchored, as you would call it, for the rest of your days under my aunt’s roof, or under my own, should I ever have one.”
“No, Miss Rose, my business is with the Swash and her captain. I shall stick by both, now I’ve found ’em again, until they once more desart me. A man’s duty is his duty, and a woman’s duty is her duty.”
“You same to like the brig and her captain, Jack Tier,” observed Biddy, “and there’s no use in gain-saying such a likin’. What will come to pass, must come to pass. Capt. Spike is a mighty great sailor, anyway.”
“He’s a willian!” muttered Jack.
“There!” cried Rose, almost breathless, “there is a rock above the water, surely. Do not fly by it so swiftly, Jack, but let us stop and examine it.”
“There is a rock, sure enough, and a large piece it is,” answered Tier. “We will go alongside of it, and see what it is made of. Biddy shall be boat-keeper, while you and I, Miss Rose, explore.”
Jack had thrown the boat into the wind, and was shooting close alongside of the reef, even while speaking. The party found no difficulty in landing; the margin of the rock admitting the boat to lie close alongside of it, and its surface being even and dry. Jack had brailed the sail, and he brought the painter ashore, and fastened it securely to a fragment of stone, that made a very sufficient anchor. In addition to this precaution, a lazy painter was put into Biddy’s hands, and she was directed not to let go of it while her companions were absent. These arrangements concluded, Rose and Jack commenced a hurried examination of the spot.