constructed for speed, it was probable more hands than common were
necessary to work her with facility and expedition. After all, there
were not many persons to be enumerated among the "people of the
Molly Swash," as they called themselves; not more than a dozen,
including those aft, as well as those forward. A peculiar feature of
this crew, however, was the circumstance that they were all
middle-aged men, with the exception of the mate, and all
thorough-bred sea-dogs. Even Josh, the cabin-boy, as he was called,
was an old, wrinkled, gray-headed negro, of near sixty. If the crew
wanted a little in the elasticity of youth, it possessed the
steadiness and experience of their time of life, every man appearing
to know exactly what to do, and when to do it. This, indeed,
composed their great merit; an advantage that Spike well knew how to
appreciate.

The stores had been brought alongside of the brig in a cart, and
were already showed in their places. Josh had brushed and swept,
until the ladies' cabin could be made no neater. This ladies' cabin
was a small apartment beneath a trunk, which was, ingeniously
enough, separated from the main cabin by pantries and double doors.
The arrangement was unusual, and Spike had several times hinted that
there was a history connected with that cabin; though what the
history was Mulford never could induce him to relate. The latter
knew that the brig had been used for a forced trade on the Spanish
Main, and had heard something of her deeds in bringing off specie,
and proscribed persons, at different epochs in the revolutions of
that part of the world, and he had always understood that her
present commander and owner had sailed in her, as mate, for many
years before he had risen to his present station. Now, all was
regular in the way of records, bills of sale, and other documents;