When Spike returned to his own vessel, he was accompanied by a dark-looking, well-dressed, and decidedly gentleman-like personage, whom he addressed indifferently, in his very imperfect Spanish, as Don Wan, (Don Juan, or John,) or Senor Montefalderon.  By the latter appellation he even saw fit to introduce the very respectable-looking stranger to his mate.  This stranger spoke English well, though with an accent.

“Don Wan has taken all the flour, Mr. Mulford, and intends shoving it over into Cuba, without troubling the custom-house, I believe; but that is not a matter to give us any concern, you know.”

The wink, and the knowing look by which this speech was accompanied, seemed particularly disagreeable to Don Juan, who now paid his compliments to Rose, with no little surprise betrayed in his countenance, but with the ease and reserve of a gentleman.  Mulford thought it strange that a smuggler of flour should be so polished a personage, though his duty did not admit of his bestowing much attention on the little trifling of the interview that succeeded.

For about an hour the work went steadily and rapidly on.  During that time Mulford was several times on board the schooner, as, indeed, was Josh, Jack Tier, and others belonging to the Swash.  The Spanish vessel was Baltimore, or clipper built, with a trunk-cabin, and had every appearance of sailing fast.  Mulford was struck with her model, and, while on board of her, he passed both forward and aft to examine it.  This was so natural in a seaman, that Spike, while he noted the proceeding, took it in good part.  He even called out to his mate, from his own quarter-deck, to admire this or that point in the schooner’s construction.  As is customary with the vessels of southern nations, this stranger was full of men, but they continued at their work, some half dozen of brawny negroes among them, shouting their songs as they swayed at the falls, no one appearing to manifest jealousy or concern.  At length Tier came near the mate, and said,

“Uncle Sam will not be pleased when he hears the reason that the keeper is not in his light-house.”

“And what is that reason, Jack?  If you know it, tell it to me.”

“Go aft and look down the companion-way, maty, and see it for yourself.”

Mulford did go aft, and he made an occasion to look down into the schooner’s cabin, where he caught a glimpse of the persons of a man and a boy, whom he at once supposed had been taken from the light-house.  This one fact of itself doubled his distrust of the character of Spike’s proceedings.  There was no sufficient apparent reason why a mere smuggler should care about the presence of an individual more or less in a foreign port.  Everything that had occurred, looked like pre-concert between the brig and the schooner; and the mate was just beginning to entertain the strongest distrust that their vessel was holding treasonable communication with the enemy,