weighty--lifted on board the brig, over the rail where the
pirates swarmed some long years ago, on to the quarter-deck; and then
there was another joyous shout from Jacob Blunt, as when he had hailed
the trade wind in that long past time.

"By all that's wonderful, here is my old bag of guineas, and some few
Spanish milled dollars! Look at the mark, my darlings!"

Another weighty bag was set aside for Mrs. Timothy Binks, and the rest
were devoted, with some large doubloon reservations for crew, to Martha
Blunt and Jacob Blunt in their declining years.

Then, the weather being still calm and foggy, Jacob and his passengers
went on board the double-banked frigate for church service, where they
all prayed with much hope and thanksgiving for what had passed and what
was to come; and then they went into the commodore's cabin, where they
remained ever so long a time.

Let us go back this same week again--a very long seven days it has been
for every body, particularly so for the icy-eyed man, who was extremely
anxious, as he kicked and lashed his mule, and kept looking round the
south side of Jamaica, from Portland Point to Pedro Bluff and San
Negril, throwing a ray of cold frost there day and night, expecting that
tall doctor to come striding along in that deep water, heading due
north.

And at last the dark figure hove in sight, in the schooner "Rosalie"--the
sweet little craft skimming exultingly over the seas, kissing them
occasionally with both her dainty, glistening cheeks, reeling joyously
over on her side, with her tidy dimity laced and spread in one flat sheet
of white, while the slender arms bent like whalebone to the freshening
breeze, and she left the dancing bubbles sparkling and flashing lovingly
in her wake.

Two hundred miles to go, and the breeze fell from fresh to light, until
at last, shrouded in a thick fog, one Sunday morning, when there was no
air at all, only a flat calm, the sea as smooth as a glass mirror with
the quicksilver clouded.

Then out sweeps, my lads! Ten of a side, and two of those bronzed old
lads at each sweep! All except the two after ones, where Ben Brown and
the tall doctor handled one apiece.

Thus, with sails down and bare arms, the light little "Rosalie"
continued gliding rapidly over the mirrored surface--a little ashamed of
herself, perhaps, at being seen in such a scanty rig--while her
commander guided her graceful course, and Harry Greenfield peered about
forward to see