"I am not certain whether it would do him good or not to see this sight," she said, addressing the wife kindly, doubtful of the effect of her words even on the latter. "But here are the sloop-of-war, and several other vessels."
"Ay, she is _there_; but never will his foot be put on board the Swash ag'in. When he bought that brig I was still young, and agreeable to him; and he gave her my maiden name, which was Mary, or Molly Swash. But that is all changed; I wonder he did not change the name with his change of feelin's."
"Then you did really sail in the brig in former times, and knew the seaman whose name you assumed?"
"Many years. Tier, with whose name I made free, on account of his size, and some resemblance to me in form, died under my care; and his protection fell into my hands, which first put the notion into my head of hailing as his representative. Yes, I knew Tier in the brig, and we were left ashore at the same time--I, intentionally, I make no question; he, because Stephen Spike was in a hurry, and did not choose to wait for a man. The poor fellow caught the yellow fever the very next day, and did not live eight-and-forty hours. So the world goes; them that wish to live, die; and them that wants to die, live!"
"You have had a hard time for one of your sex, poor Jack--quite twenty years a sailor, did you not tell me?"
"Every day of it, Miss Rose--and bitter years have they been; for the whole of that time have I been in chase of my husband, keeping my own secret, and slaving like a horse for a livelihood."
"You could not have been old when he left--that is--when you parted."
"Call it by its true name, and say at once, when he desarted me. I was under thirty by two or three years, and was still like my own sex to look at. All _that_ is changed since; but I _was_ comely _then_."
"_Why_ did Capt. Spike abandon you, Jack; you have never told me _that_."
"Because he fancied another. And ever since that time he has been fancying others, instead of remembering me. Had he got _you_, Miss Rose, I think he would have been content for the rest of his days."
"Be certain, Jack, I should never have consented to marry Capt. Spike."
"You're well out of his hands," answered Jack, sighing heavily, which was much the most feminine thing she had done during the whole conversation, "well out of his hands--and God be praised it is so. He should have died, before I would let him carry you off the island--husband or no husband."