Jack Tier | Page 2

patriotism.
It is a pretty safe rule to suspect the man of hypocrisy who makes a
parade of his religion, and the partisan of corruption and selfishness,
who is clamorous about the rights of the people. Captain Spike was
altogether above the first vice; though fairly on level, as respects the
second, with divers patriots who live by their deity.

CHAPTER I.

Pros.
Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore?
Ariel.
Close by, my master.
Pros.
But are they, Ariel, safe?
Ariel.
Not a hair perished:
Tempest.

"D'ye here there, Mr. Mulford?" called out Capt. Stephen Spike, of the
half-rigged, brigantine Swash, or Molly Swash, as was her registered
name, to his mate--"we shall be dropping out as soon as the tide makes,
and I intend to get through the Gate, at least, on the next flood. Waiting
for a wind in port is lubberly seamanship, for he that wants one should
go outside and look for it."
This call was uttered from a wharf of the renowned city of Manhattan,
to one who was in the trunk-cabin of a clipper-looking craft, of the
name mentioned, and on the deck of which not a soul was visible. Nor
was the wharf, though one of those wooden piers that line the arm of
the sea that is called the East River, such a spot as ordinarily presents
itself to the mind of the reader, or listener, when an allusion is made to
a wharf of that town which it is the fashion of the times to call the
Commercial Emporium of America--as if there might very well be an
emporium of any other character. The wharf in question had not a
single vessel of any sort lying at, or indeed very near it, with the
exception of the Molly Swash. As it actually stood on the eastern side
of the town, it is scarcely necessary to say that such a wharf could only
be found high up, and at a considerable distance from the usual haunts

of commerce. The brig lay more than a mile above the Hook (Corlaer's,
of course, is meant--not Sandy Hook) and quite near to the old Alms
House--far above the ship-yards, in fact. It was a solitary place for a
vessel, in the midst of a crowd. The grum top-chain voice of Captain
Spike had nothing there to mingle with, or interrupt its harsh tones, and
it instantly brought on deck Harry Mulford, the mate in question,
apparently eager to receive his orders.
"Did you hail, Captain Spike?" called out the mate, a tight, well-grown,
straight-built, handsome sailor-lad of two or three-and-twenty--one full
of health, strength and manliness.
"Hail! If you call straining a man's throat until he's hoarse, hailing, I
believe I did. I flatter myself, there is not a man north of Hatteras that
can make himself heard further in gale of wind than a certain
gentleman who is to be found within a foot of the spot where I stand.
Yet, sir, I've been hailing the Swash these five minutes, and thankful
am I to find some one at last who is on board to answer me."
"What are your orders, Capt. Spike?"
"To see all clear for a start as soon as the flood makes. I shall go
through the Gate on the next young flood, and I hope you'll have all the
hands aboard in time. I see two or three of them up at that Dutch
beer-house, this moment, and can tell'em; in plain language, if they
come here with their beer aboard them, they'll have to go ashore again."
"You have an uncommonly sober crew, Capt. Spike," answered the
young man, with great calmness. "During the whole time I have been
with them, I have not seen a man among them the least in the wind."
"Well, I hope it will turn out that I've an uncommonly sober mate in the
bargain. Drunkenness I abominate, Mr. Mulford, and I can tell you,
short metre, that I will not stand it."
"May I inquire if you ever saw me, the least in the world, under the
influence of liquor, Capt. Spike?" demanded the mate, rather than
asked, with a very fixed meaning in his manner.
"I keep no log-book of trifles, Mr. Mulford, and cannot say. No man is
the worse for bowsing out his jib when off duty, though a drunkard's a
thing I despise. Well, well--remember, sir, that the Molly Swash casts
off on the young flood, and that Rose Budd and the good lady, her aunt,
take passage in her, this v'y'ge."
"Is it possible that you have persuaded them into that, at last!"

exclaimed the handsome mate.
"Persuaded! It takes no great persuasion, sir, to get the ladies to try
their luck in that