“You amaze me, both of you!  Tides are always spoken of favourably, but eddies never.  If a ship gets ashore, the tide can float her off; that I’ve heard a thousand times.  Then, what do the newspapers say of President—­, and Governor—­, and Congressman—?  Why, that they all `float in the tide of public opinion,’ and that must mean something particularly good, as they are always in office.  No, no, Harry; I’ll acknowledge that you do know something about ships; a good deal, considering how young you are; but you have something to learn about eddies.  Never trust one as long as you live.”

Mulford was silent, and Rose took the occasion to change the discourse.

“I hope we shall soon be able to quit this place,” she said; “for I confess to some dread of Captain Spike’s return.”

“Captain Stephen Spike has greatly disappointed me,” observed the aunt, gravely.  “I do not know that I was ever before deceived in judging a person.  I could have sworn he was an honest, frank, well-meaning sailor—­a character, of all others, that I love; but it has turned out otherwise.”

“He’s a willian!” mutttered Jack Tier.

Mulford smiled; at which speech we must leave to conjecture; but he answered Rose, as he ever did, promptly and with pleasure.

“The schooner is ready, and this must be our last meal ashore,” he said.  “Our outfit will be no great matter; but if it will carry us down to Key West, I shall ask no more of it.  As for the return of the Swash, I look upon it as certain.  She could easily get clear of the sloop-of-war, with the start she had, and Spike is a man that never yet abandoned a doubloon, when he knew where one was to be found.”

“Stephen Spike is like all his fellow-creatures,” put in Jack Tier, pointedly.  “He has his faults, and he has his virtues.”

“Virtue is a term I should never think of applying to such a man,” returned Mulford, a little surprised at the fellow’s earnestness.  “The word is a big one, and belongs to quite another class of persons.”  Jack muttered a few syllables that were unintelligible, when again the conversation changed.

Rose now inquired of Mulford as to their prospects of getting to Key West.  He told her that the distance was about sixty miles; their route lying along the north or inner side of the Florida Reef.  The whole distance was to be made against the trade-wind, which was then blowing about an eight-knot breeze, though, bating eddies, they might expect to be favoured with the current, which was less strong inside than outside of the reef.  As for handling the schooner, Mulford saw no great difficulty in that.  She was not large, and was both lightly sparred and lightly rigged.  All her top-hamper had been taken down by Spike, and nothing remained but the plainest and most readily-managed gear.  A fore-and-aft vessel, sailing close by the wind, is not difficult to steer; will almost steer herself, indeed, in smooth water.