Jack Tier | Page 9

we to fear from
it? I fancy the brig has paid her reckoning."
"She do n't owe a cent, nor ever shall for twenty-four hours after the
bill is made out, while I own her. They call me ready-money Stephen,
round among the ship-chandlers and caulkers. But I do n't like them
chaps, and what I do n't relish I never swallow, you know."
"They 'll hardly try to get aboard us, sir; you see we are quite clear of
the wharf, and the mainsail will take now, if we set it."
Spike ordered the mate to clap on the outhauler, and spread that broad
sheet of canvas at once to the little breeze there was. This was almost
immediately done, when the sail filled, and began to be felt on the
movement of the vessel. Still, that movement was very slow, the wind
being so light, and the vis inertioe of so large a body remaining to be
overcome. The brig receded from the wharf, almost in a line at right
angles to its face, inch by inch, as it might be, dropping slowly up with
the tide at the same time. Mulford now passed forward to set the jibs,
and to get the topsail on the craft, leaving Spike on the taffrail, keenly
eyeing the strangers, who, by this time, had got down nearly to the end
of the wharf, at the berth so lately occupied by the Swash. That the
captain was uneasy was evident enough, that feeling being exhibited in
his countenance, blended with a malignant ferocity.
"Has that brig any pilot?" asked the larger and better-looking of the two
strangers.
"What's that to you, friend?" demanded Spike, in return. "Have you a
Hell-Gate branch?"
"I may have one, or I may not. It is not usual for so large a craft to run
the Gate without a pilot."
"Oh! my gentleman's below, brushing up his logarithms. We shall have
him on deck to take his departure before long, when I'll let him know
your kind inquiries after his health."
The man on the wharf seemed to be familiar with this sort of sea-wit,
and he made no answer, but continued that close scrutiny of the brig,
by turning his eyes in all directions, now looking below, and now aloft,
which had in truth occasioned Spike's principal cause for uneasiness.
"Is not that Capt. Stephen Spike, of the brigantine Molly Swash?"

called out the little, dumpling-looking person, in a cracked, dwarfish
sort of a voice, that was admirably adapted to his appearance. Our
captain fairly started; turned full toward the speaker; regarded him
intently for a moment; and gulped the words he was about to utter, like
one confounded. As he gazed, however, at little dumpy, examining his
bow-legs, red broad cheeks, and coarse snub nose, he seemed to regain
his self-command, as if satisfied the dead had not really returned to life.
"Are you acquainted with the gentleman you have named?" he asked,
by way of answer. "You speak of him like one who ought to know
him."
"A body is apt to know a shipmate. Stephen Spike and I sailed together
twenty years since, and I hope to live to sail with him again."
"You sail with Stephen Spike? when and where, may I ask, and in what
v'y'ge, pray?"
"The last time was twenty years since. Have you forgotten little Jack
Tier, Capt. Spike?"
Spike looked astonished, and well he might, for he had supposed Jack
to be dead fully fifteen years. Time and hard service had greatly altered
him, but the general resemblance in figure, stature, and waddle,
certainly remained. Notwithstanding, the Jack Tier that Spike
remembered was quite a different person from this Jack Tier. That Jack
had worn his intensely black hair clubbed and curled, whereas this Jack
had cut his locks into short bristles, which time had turned into an
intense gray. That Jack was short and thick, but he was flat and square;
whereas this Jack was just as short, a good deal thicker, and as round as
a dumpling. In one thing, however, the likeness still remained perfect.
Both Jacks chewed tobacco, to a degree that became a distinct feature
in their appearance.
Spike had many reasons for wishing Jack Tier were not resuscitated in
this extraordinary manner, and some for being glad to see him. The
fellow had once been largely in his confidence, and knew more than
was quite safe for any one to remember but himself, while he might be
of great use to him in his future, operations. It is always convenient to
have one at your elbow who thoroughly understands you, and Spike
would have lowered a boat and sent it to the wharf to bring Jack off,
were it not for the