elieved
of the weight of no less than eight men, the difference in the rate of
sailing was manifestly diminished. The man-of-war's boat drew nearer,
but by no means as fast as it had previously done. A point was now
reached in the trim of the yawl, when a very few hundreds in weight
might make the most important change in her favor; and this change the
captain was determined to produce. By this time the cutter was in deep
water, as well as himself, safe through all the dangers of the reef,
and she was less than a quarter of a mile astern. On the whole, she
was gaining, though so slowly as to require the most experienced eye
to ascertain the fact.

"Madame Budd," said Spike, in a hypocritical tone, "we are in great
danger, and I shall have to ask you to change your seat. The boat is
too much by the starn, now we've got into deep water, and your weight
amidships would be a great relief to us. Just give your hand to the
boatswain, and he will help you to step from thwart to thwart, until
you reach the right place, when Biddy shall follow."

Now Mrs. Budd had witnessed the tremendous struggle in which so many
had gone overboard, but so dull was she of apprehension, and so little
disposed to suspect any thing one-half so monstrous as the truth, that
she did not hesitate to comply. She was profoundly awed by the horrors
of the scene through which she was passing, the raging billows of the
gulf, as seen from so small a craft, producing a deep impression on
her; still a lingering of her most inveterate affectation was to be
found in her air and language, which presented a strange medley of
besetting weakness, and strong, natural, womanly affection.

"Certainly, Capt. Spike," she answered, rising. "A craft should never
go astern, and I am quite willing to ballast the boat. We have seen
such terrible accidents to-day, that all should lend their aid in
endeavoring to get under way, and in averting all possible hamper.
Only take me to my poor, dear Rosy, Capt. Spike, and every thing shall
be forgotten that has passed between us. This is not a moment to bear
malice; and I freely pardon you all and every thing. The fate of our
unfortunate friend, Mr. Montefalderon, should teach us charity, and
cause us to prepare for untimely ends."

All the time the good widow was making this speech, which she uttered
in a solemn and oracular sort of manner, she was moving slowly toward
the seat the men had prepared for her, in the middle of the