This was the only explanation to which the ingenuity of Mulford could help him, under the circumstances, and it may have been the right one, or not.  There lay the schooner, however, in some five or six fathoms of water, with her two topmasts, and lower mast-heads out of the element, as upright as if docked!  It may all have occurred as the mate fancied, or the unusual incident may have been owing to some of the many mysterious causes which baffle inquiry, when the agents are necessarily hidden from examination.

“Spike intends to come and look for this wreck, you tell me, Jack; in the hope of getting at the doubloons it contains?” said Mulford; when the boat had lain a minute or two longer, riding by the mast-head.

“Ay, ay, sir; that’s his notion, sir, and he’ll be in a great stew, as soon as he turns out, which must be about this time, and finds me missing; for I was to pilot him to the spot.”

“He’ll want no pilot now.  It will be scarcely possible to pass anywhere near this and not see these spars.  But this discovery almost induces me to change my own plans.  What say you, Rose?  We have now reached the northern side of the reef, when it is time to haul close by the wind, if we wish to beat up to Key West.  There is a moral certainty, however, that the sloop-of-war is somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Dry Tortugas, which are much the most easily reached, being to leeward.  We might run down to the light-house by mid-day, while it is doubtful if we could reach the town until to-morrow morning.  I should like exceedingly to have five minutes conversation with the commander of the Poughkeepsie.”

“Ay, to let him know where he will be likely to fall in with the Molly Swash and her traitor master, Stephen Spike,” cried Jack Tier.  “Never mind, maty; let ’em come on; both the Molly and her master have got long legs and clean heels.  Stephen Spike will show ’em how to thread the channels of a reef.”

“It is amazing to me, Jack, that you should stand by your old captain in feeling, while you are helping to thwart him, all you can, in his warmest wishes.”

“He’s a willian!” muttered Jack—­“a reg’lar willian is Stephen Spike!”

“If a villain, why do you so evidently wish to keep him out of the hands of the law?  Let him be captured and punished, as his crimes require.”

“Men’s willians, all round,” still muttered Jack.  “Hark’e, Mr. Mulford, I’ve sailed in the brig longer than you, and know’d her in her comeliest and best days—­when she was young, and blooming, and lovely to the eye, as the young creature at your side—­and it would go to my heart to have anything happen to her.  Then, I’ve know’d Stephen a long time, too, and old shipmates get a feelin’ for each other, sooner or later.  I tell you now, honestly, Mr. Mulford, Captain Adam Mull shall never make a prisoner of Stephen Spike, if I can prevent it.”