The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Cruise of the "Lively Bee", by John De Morgan

BOYS OF LIBERTY LIBRARY.

12mo. Cloth, handsomely bound. Price, each, postpaid, 50 cents.

PAUL REVERE and the Boys of Liberty. By John De Morgan.

THE FIRST SHOT FOR LIBERTY or The Minute Men of Massachusetts. By John De Morgan.

FOOLING THE ENEMY. A Story of the Siege of Boston. By John De Morgan.

INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH or The Boys of Liberty at the Battle of Long Island. By John De Morgan.

THE HERO OF TICONDEROGA or Ethan Allen and His Green Mountain Boys. By John De Morgan.

ON TO QUEBEC or With Montgomery in Canada. By John De Morgan.

FIGHTING HAL or From Fort Necessity to Quebec. By John De Morgan.

MARION AND HIS MEN or The Swamp Fox of Carolina. By John De Morgan.

THE YOUNG AMBASSADOR or Washington's First Triumph. By John De Morgan.

THE YOUNG GUARDSMAN or With Washington in the Ohio Valley. By John De Morgan.

THE CRUISE OF THE LIVELY BEE or A Boy's Adventure in the War of 1812. By John De Morgan.

THE TORY PLOT or Saving Washington's Life. By T. C. Harbaugh.

IN BUFF AND BLUE or Serving under Old Put. By T. C. Harbaugh.

WASHINGTON'S YOUNG SPY or Outwitting General Howe. By T. C. Harbaugh.

UNDER GREENE'S BANNER or The Boy Heroes of 1781. By T. C. Harbaugh.

FOR FREEDOM'S CAUSE or On to Saratoga. By T. C. Harbaugh.

CAPTAIN OF THE MINUTE MEN or The Concord Boys of 1775. By Harrie Irving Hancock.

THE TRADER'S CAPTIVE or The Young Guardsman and The French Spies. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

THE QUAKER SPY, A Tale of the Revolutionary War. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM or The Birth of the Stars and Stripes. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

BY ORDER OF THE COLONEL or The Captain of the Young Guardsmen. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

A CALL TO DUTY or The Young Guardsman. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

IN GLORY'S VAN or The Young Guardsman at Louisbourg. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

THE YOUNG PATRIOT or The Young Guardsmen at Fort William Henry. By Lieut. Lounsberry.

"OLD PUT" THE PATRIOT or Fighting for Home and Country. By Frederick A. Ober.

THE LEAGUE OF FIVE or Washington's Boy Scouts. By Commander Post.

THE KING'S MESSENGER or The Fall of Ticonderoga. By Capt. Frank Ralph.

DASHING PAUL JONES, The Hero of the Colonial Navy. By Frank Sheridan.

FROM MIDSHIPMAN TO COMMODORE or The Glories of Our Infant Navy. By Frank Sheridan.

THE CRUISE OF THE ESSEX or Making the Stars and Stripes Respected. By Frank Sheridan.

THE CRUISE OF THE
"LIVELY BEE"

OR

A BOY'S ADVENTURE IN THE
WAR OF 1812

BY

JOHN De MORGAN

AUTHOR OF

"Paul Revere," "The Young Ambassador," "The First
Shot for Liberty," "The Young Guardsman," etc.

PHILADELPHIA
DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER
610 South Washington Square

Copyright, 1892
By Norman L. Munro

The Cruise of the "Lively Bee"

[THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE."]

[CONTENTS]

[CHAPTER I. DECLARATION OF WAR.]
[CHAPTER II. THE DEPARTURE.]
[CHAPTER III. THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY.]
[CHAPTER IV. THE CHALLENGE.]
[CHAPTER V. THE CHASE.]
[CHAPTER VI. STORM AT SEA.]
[CHAPTER VII. THE ESSEX.]
[CHAPTER VIII. SCENTING MUTINY.]
[CHAPTER IX. A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY.]
[CHAPTER X. PREPARING FOR ACTION.]
[CHAPTER XI. THE FIGHT AT SEA]
[CHAPTER XII. ON THE VERGE OF SUCCESS.]
[CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF THE CONQUEROR.]
[CHAPTER XIV. THE LIVELY BEE'S PLUCK.]
[CHAPTER XV. THE WASP'S STING.]
[CHAPTER XVI. THE MERCHANT CAPTAIN'S CARGO.]
[CHAPTER XVII. A RICH PRIZE.]
[CHAPTER XVIII. A STRANGE SAIL.]
[CHAPTER XIX. BOB, THE POWDER-MONKEY.]
[CHAPTER XX. THE MONARCH'S DOOM.]
[CHAPTER XXI. HOMEWARD BOUND.]
[CHAPTER XXII. JACK'S REQUEST.]
[CHAPTER XXIII. THE STORY OF THE FIGHT.]
[CHAPTER XXIV. MARRIAGE AT SEA.]
[CHAPTER XXV. THE BALL AT THE WHITE HOUSE.]
[CHAPTER XXVI. THE MARRIAGE AT THE WHITE HOUSE.]
[CHAPTER XXVII. AN UNEXPECTED PLEASURE.]
[CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CONSTITUTION'S GREAT VICTORY.]
[CHAPTER XXIX. A LESSON IN MILITARY LAW.]
[CHAPTER XXX. BOB'S GOOD ANGEL.]
[CHAPTER XXXI. THE REGINA, OF TORQUAY.]
[CHAPTER XXXII. HOW BOB KEPT HIS OATH.]
[CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MUTINY QUELLED.]
[CHAPTER XXXIV. VERNON'S SUCCESS.]
[CHAPTER XXXV. THE END OF THE LIVELY BEE.]

[CHAPTER I.]

DECLARATION OF WAR.

There was a large crowd on the Battery in New York City one hot day in June in the year eighteen-hundred-and-twelve.

Every one was talking and every one was looking out across the waters of the harbor.

There were pale, anxious faces in that crowd, and side by side with them were the flushed cheeks of men and boys whose hearts were fired with patriotic zeal.

Women were looking at their husbands, and young girls' hearts were throbbing with painful excitement as they saw the enthusiasm of their sweethearts.

"War, did you say?"

"Ay, ay, the President has aroused at last, and old England shall be taught another and a final lesson."

It was true.

President James Madison had signed the Declaration of War against Great Britain.

War!

There were many in that crowd who remembered 1783; there stood the man who, in his boyhood's days, had climbed the flagpole and torn down the Union Jack of England, and in its place had hoisted the Star Spangled Banner.

Many whose hair was now turning gray had shouldered the musket and had marched with Washington from victory to victory.

The war had ended when the British evacuated the city, but America was not free and independent.

England held the supremacy of the seas.

English vessels entered American ports, and men were impressed as seamen on the technical ground that they had never abjured allegiance.

American vessels were boarded on the high seas, and some of the best men taken away and forced to serve under the English flag.

There is a limit to forbearance, and the young nation, whose infancy had scarcely been passed, resolved that it would be better to die than endure such insults.

War was declared.

It looked like madness.

It was so, if judged by the ordinary rules of national conduct.

Great Britain was the mistress of the seas.

On the roll of her navy were over a thousand ships, and eighty-five of the largest were actually in American ports.

President Madison and his Cabinet did not, however, intend that the war should be waged on the high seas.

The American ships-of-war were to remain in the harbors as so many floating batteries for defensive purposes.

In New York Harbor was a small squadron under the command of Commodore Rodgers.

He heard the rumor that he was not to go out to sea, and dispatched Captains Bainbridge and Stewart to Washington to confer with the Secretary of the Navy.

Secretary Paul Hamilton listened attentively to the two captains, and they thought they had won their case; but with great courtesy he thanked them, and said that the President had, with the consent of his Cabinet, decided to order the ships to remain in the harbors.

Captain Stewart stamped his foot, and with almost anger, exclaimed:

"Sir, you are going to ruin the country; I'll have you impeached!"

Paul Hamilton smiled.

Off went Stewart to the White House and argued his case so well that the President put the unsigned order in his desk, and told the captain he would consider the matter.

War was declared a few days after that consultation.

Commodore Rodgers was ready to sail, and only awaited official knowledge of the declaration.

The crowd at the Battery held divergent sentiments.

"It's all very well for Rodgers to take his ships out, but kin he bring 'em back," asked an old sailor whose face was tanned by many a summer sun and winter wind; "kin he bring 'em back? That's what I want to know!"

"You're afraid, Sam Buller, that's what's the matter."

"Durn it! I afraid, younker? I hate John Bull like pizen, and but that's no reason why I should go an' get killed and do no good."

"Take no notice of the old grumbler, men. Our commodore will not only come back, but will bring lots of British ships as prizes."

The speaker was a boy—a mere child—for he had only just passed his eleventh birthday; but he was dressed in the full uniform of the United States navy, and ranked as a midshipman.

"Hark to the baby!"

"Baby! I'd have you know I got my commission two years ago, and if you doubt it, I ask these gallant men to attest it. I'm proud of my ship. I'm proud of her captain, and I'm an officer there. Is it not so?"

The boy appealed to the crew of a boat which had just reached the wooden dock.

"Ay, ay, sir, and as brave an officer as ever carried a sword."

The midshipman stepped into the boat, the men dipped their oars, and the crowd watched the boat glide over the water until the Essex, a thirty-two gun frigate, was reached.

"What did I tell you?" asked the old salt who was known as Sam Buller, "what did I tell you? Going to war with chits of boys, not old enough to be a cook's slavey, as officers."

"Say what you like, that boy may not be as strong, but he is as brave as any man in the service."

"Perhaps you know him, sir?"

"I do. That boy's name is David Glasgow Farragut, and he has been on the Essex for four years. He is the adopted son of Captain Porter, and whoever says one word against that young midshipman will have to answer to me."

"And who may you be, my hearty?" asked Sam Buller

"I am Captain Stewart of the United States navy; who are you?"

Captain Stewart did not wait for a reply, but entered the boat which awaited him and was soon rowed across to his ship.

Every one knew Charles Stewart's character for bravery, for in the year 1800, when in command of the schooner Experiment, he captured the French privateers Deux Amis and the Diana. In 1804 he commanded the Siren, and went with the American squadron against Tripoli, and achieved several victories.

"I only wish I could get on board the Essex. I'd be pleased to call Farragut my superior," said a young man, whose build and manner were those of an educated sailor.

"Why don't you?" asked one of the crowd.

"I have tried, but they told me they were full."

"Do you want to fight?"

The inquirer was one whose appearance invited confidence. He was well dressed, and had a good honest face.

"Fight? Yes, sir; if it be the British I fight against."

"Why are you anxious to fight the British?"

"My grandfather, sir, was with Washington, and was killed fighting for his country; my father was wounded, and my elder brother killed. I have been told of those days, and I have a debt to pay."

"But you do not remember that time."

"No, sir. I am only nineteen years old, and the British evacuated New York twelve years before I was born."

"Then it is only as you have been educated? You blush! You need not make me your confidant unless you like——"

"I will tell you, sir, for I know you can feel for me."

The two young men had separated from the crowd, and had walked along the water's edge until they came to where the Barge Office now stands.

They were alone, or nearly so, as the crowds were watching the war vessels.

"I had a dear friend who was taken from his home and impressed."

"Ah! never mind the story now. What say you to shipping with me?"

"I—I would like to be on a man-of-war."

"I see; and you think I cannot ship you on a war vessel. But if it is fighting you want, I can promise you as much as you desire. If it is prize money you seek, my boy, don't go on a warship, but ship with me."

"And, sir, what may be your ship's name?"

The elder man led his companion a little farther up the dock and pointed out a schooner.

"See! there is the ship for you, my boy; look at her! Isn't she a model?"

She was certainly a beautiful sight as she hoisted her mainsail and jib and glided off under a breeze so light that the large ships hardly stirred, with all their sails set.

"She has started."

"Ay, ay; but we can catch her at the Narrows. I like you, and I want you to ship with me. Will you do so?"

"I—don't know—I——"

"Come along; you shall have a warm welcome on board the Lively Bee."

"Is that schooner the famed privateer?"

"Yes; I have a lettre de marque from the government. We shall fight, but if we are taken prisoners we shall be hanged. On the one hand I promise you plenty of fighting and lots of prize money, on the other there is the risk of being hanged."

"I will go with you."

"I knew you would. I came ashore purposely to meet you."

"To meet me? You do not know me."

"Don't I? Then perhaps I have made a mistake. I thought you were John Tempest——"

"That is my name; but how did you know me, and why did you want me?"

"You will ship with me?"

"I will."

"Give me your hand. We shall be comrades in many a fight. I am Captain Harry Vernon of the Lively Bee."

[CHAPTER II.]

THE DEPARTURE.

Out in the bay the American fleet was preparing to depart.

Commodore Rodgers had just heard of the declaration of war, and he was afraid that the order to detain him in the harbor would be signed and delivered to him before he could start.

He called Captains Bainbridge and Stewart and Porter to the flagship and asked abruptly:

"How long before you can sail?"

"Ready now, sir," was Stewart's answer.

Rodgers was blunt and always spared himself words.

"Do you want to fight on the high seas or skulk like old hulks in the harbor?" he asked, and added quickly: "You need not answer. I know you well. Go back, get ready; we will start within an hour, and once outside the Narrows, no President's order can reach us."

The captains swung themselves over the side and were rowed back to their vessels.

It was a pretty sight. Those "wooden walls" of Columbia, in all the bravery of trimly taut rigging, yards crossed in mathematically precise order, hulls newly painted, ports open to reveal the lines of frowning guns, presented a sight which was enough to rouse the enthusiasm of every patriot on land.

The fleet under the command of Commodore Rodgers consisted of the flagship President, carrying forty-four guns; the Essex, thirty-two, and the Hornet, eighteen.

These three vessels were anchored off the Battery, but they did not comprise the entire fleet, for over against what is now Liberty Island were three more, the United States, mounting forty-four guns, a sister-ship to the President; the Congress, thirty-eight, and the Argus, sixteen.

Fifty minutes only elapsed after the conference on the flagship before the entire fleet was under sail.

"Come, my boys," said Captain Vernon, "we have to overtake the Lively Bee before she reaches the Narrows, and it is a long pull."

Vernon took the helm, young Tempest the bow oar, and a tough old salt the oar next him.

It was not until they were seated that Tempest saw the face of the sailor next him, and at once took a fancy to him.

Captain Vernon gave the command in a loud, ringing voice:

"Oars down! Give way!"

The oars fell into the water with splendid precision, and the boat made a spurt forward.

"You will find, Mr. Tempest, that on board the Lively Bee we have such discipline that we move like machines."

All the rowers bent to their work, and the captain cheered them with words of praise.

At times he would pretend to be angry.

"You lazy lubbers, are you asleep? Come, rouse up, or we'll never reach the Lively Bee."

The men did pull with more spirit after every outburst of grumbling or reprimand.

Governor's Island was passed, the little boat was saluted by the captain of the Essex, and Vernon felt proud.

"Tom Mullen, start us a good rousing chorus—that one you sang when we chased the French."

Tempest was surprised, for he had not known that the new sailor was known to the captain, or had sailed with him against the French.

The rough old salt, in a voice which had more of the nature of a fog horn than a human being, started singing:

"Americans, then fly to arms,
And learn the way to use 'em;
If each man fights to 'fend his rights,
The English can't abuse 'em.
Yankee Doodle—mind the tune—
Yankee Doodle Dandy;
For Britons there's trouble brewin'—
We'll spank 'em, hard and handy."

All joined in the chorus, and Tempest looked surprised, for he had all the prejudices of the navy against the lax discipline of a privateer or merchantman.

"I changed my gaff a little, cap'n, for we ain't a-fightin' Johnny Crapaud any more, but the redcoats," said Mullen, well pleased with himself for having inserted the word English for French in the doggerel.

"You did right, Tom, and if we all fight as well as you sing we'll come back with our pockets full of chinks and a lot of British prizes in tow."

The Lively Bee was still a long way ahead, and Captain Vernon shouted to the rowers:

"Now my hearties, don't get stiff-backed. Crack the oars! Now, then, bend away!"

The day was hot. Those on shore were bathed in perspiration.

Had thermometers been so plentiful in the streets then as they are now they would have told the sweating crowd that ninety degrees in the shade had been reached.

But if standing still, watching the great war vessels sail lazily out of the harbor, was hot work, what must those sailors in the captain's boat have experienced as they rowed through the waters of the bay at racing speed.

"You lazy lubbers, I guess you think you're in church with your wives, and can go to sleep. Rouse up, will you, and land me on the Lively Bee."

Tempest thought he had never been so hot before. He was not afraid of work, he expected it.

He had entered as a man before the mast, and he knew a dog's life was one to be envied when compared with that of a common seaman.

The most barbarous cruelties were practiced on sailors; they were not treated to any consideration, and therefore John Tempest was not surprised at the hard work he had to endure.

He was ready to drop with the heat and fatigue, but he would not allow the captain to see he was tired.

The Narrows were reached before the boat overtook the Lively Bee, and the waters of the Lower Bay were entered before the captain and his men stood on the deck of the famous schooner.

The crew saluted the captain, who responded warmly, and then bade Tempest follow him to the cabin.

[CHAPTER III.]

THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY.

"I know you, John Tempest, better than you know me," commenced Captain Vernon, "and before you sign the ship's log I want to have a talk with you."

Tempest followed, wondering much at the manner and deference shown to him by the captain of the privateer.

"Sit down, and place yourself outside a stiff glass of that brandy," said Vernon, helping himself at the same time to a similar dose.

"You possess a time-honored name, young man, and have spunk to maintain it. Have you forgotten that you were on the Essex when the British boarded her and demanded the surrender of a deserter?

"Your captain ordered the alleged deserter to prove his citizenship, and he couldn't!"

"But he gave his word," said Tempest.

"Yes, but who believes a man's word in such a case?"

"How do you know all this? Who are you?"

"Captain Vernon, of the good privateer Lively Bee."

"Yes, but how did you know——"

"Let me finish. Your captain agreed to give up the sailor, whose name was——"

Vernon hesitated as though he would have liked Tempest to have finished the sentence.

Tempest remained silent, and his captain continued:

"His name was Vincent Decatur."

"You are right, captain, though that was not the name in the ship's books."

"No, he was known on board as James Vincent. He had good reasons for changing his name: Decatur went below to get his kit. The British officer and squad of marines waited him on deck.

"Decatur saw an ax on the carpenter's bench as he passed. With only a moment's hesitation he seized it in his right hand, and with one blow cut off the left. It was then that you, John Tempest, junior officer on board the U. S. frigate Essex, saw the deed, and congratulated the man on his bravery.

"Decatur went on deck carrying the severed hand with him. He presented himself before the British officer, maimed and useless as a sailor for life.

"He showed his bleeding wrist to the officer, and, almost faint with loss of blood, he managed to say:

"'Sir, I swore I would never serve under the English flag, or recognize it except as the flag of an enemy. My own captain has deserted me. I am an American born, and my severed hand will show how I have kept my oath.' Then you, Ensign Tempest, called for three cheers for the brave American sailor. The crew and marines on the Essex responded to the call, and the cheers ascended through the rigging. Captain Porter intimated that your influence in the service would not be good, and—to put it mildly—asked you to resign your commission. The men would have stood by you, but you knew disobedience to the captain's will was mutiny, and you offered your resignation, which was accepted. There was one who did plead for you—Cadet Midshipman Farragut. But Porter was inexorable, and you became a landsman."

"How do you know all this?"

"I have not yet finished; hear me through and we shall better understand each other."

The Lively Bee was skimming through the water at the rate of four knots an hour, but so well proportioned was she that the motion was almost imperceptible.

"Take another glass of brandy, Tempest."

"No, captain, I have sea legs, but a landsman's head, and cannot stand much grog."

"You had not been on shore long before you again met Vincent Decatur. He was crippled for life, but was happier than had he been compelled to sail under the British flag.

"You visited him—ah, your face tells me that I am right—you felt a strange desire to distinguish yourself, not because of patriotism altogether, but the bright eyes of Bertha Decatur shone into your very soul. She would marry none who deserted his country in the hour of need. The man she would honor was one who fought for his country. You heard this and——"

"Shipped on a privateer," added Tempest, almost sarcastically.

"Yes, shipped on the neatest, trimmest, fastest schooner afloat, on the Lively Bee, which shall sting so often and so deeply that all America shall respect its crew."

"How did you learn all you have told me?"

Captain Vernon laughed merrily, and looked at the young ensign almost quizzically.

"You would like to know?"

"I am burning with curiosity."

"Then I will tell you. I heard the story partly from Midshipman Farragut——"

"You know him?"

"Of course I do."

"And yet when Buller was reviling him at the Battery you did not defend him."

"No! It would have been an impertinence for a privateer captain to defend a naval officer."

"But young Farragut did not know——"

"Bertha Decatur, no; but I do, and she sang your praises so often that I wanted to find you. Farragut quietly pointed you out in the crowd at the Battery, and—well, here you are."

"A man before the mast."

"No. You were ensign in the navy, where promotion is slow; you shall be first officer on the Lively Bee. Will you accept?"

"How can I thank you?"

"By doing your duty. I am proud to have you, Tempest, and I don't think you will ever rue the day you became first officer on the Lively Bee."

"I accept your generous offer."

"You have done well. I am a good skipper, I can steer a vessel as well as any man, and I can fight, but sometimes a little science which you naval fellows have is very useful. I shall expect you to be as ardent an enemy of the British as I am. Show no quarter, have no mercy, send every British ship to Davy Jones' locker if you can't take it captive. Let your motto be, as mine is, eternal hatred to British rule."

"I will swear it if necessary."

"No, Tempest, the word of an honest man is all I need. Be watchful."

"I will make no boast, captain, but I think you will find I can do without food or sleep as long as any man, and my vigilance shall never give you a moment's uneasiness."

"I know it. Now, there is another thing. Although the Lively Bee is a privateer, we are most punctilious about dress. We are uniformed when at sea."

"But——"

"In yonder room, which will be yours, you will find a first officer's uniform, which, if I mistake not, will be a fair fit for you. If it wants altering, we have an excellent tailor on board."

"How thoughtful you are, captain."

"Thank you for the compliment. Now go and dress, and I will introduce you to your brother officers."

John Tempest was surprised at the size and comfort of his stateroom.

It was far superior to the one he occupied on the Essex.

He thought it was fit for a lady's bower, and as he thought it he remembered Bertha, and his love for her.

"What will she say of my becoming a privateer?" he asked himself. "Surely the risk is enough. If I am captured, I shall be hanged. If I am shot, I shall die for my country. If Farragut recognizes my captain, why should I be ashamed of him? I will do my duty, and will win Bertha."

He dressed in the uniform, and looked as handsome a privateer as ever walked a deck.

When he stepped up the companionway to the deck, he was met by the captain.

"Welcome, Lieutenant Tempest," he said, grasping the young officer's hand.

Turning to the officers, he said in his usual hearty manner:

"Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant Tempest, my first officer, an able seaman, as I can vouch, an honest man, and an inveterate hater of England. For ten generations his family has been noted for its patriotism, and the Lively Bee will have the advantage of his name, fame and honor. Lieutenant Tempest, Mr. Scarron and Mr. Webster. I hope you will all be good friends."

Scarron and Webster were typical sailors.

Blunt almost to uncouthness, they looked just what they were—able seamen, good fighters and not overburdened with education or politeness.

"I was first officer on a whaler," said Scarron as he further introduced himself.

"And I was a merchant skipper till the French seized my ship and I paid away every cent I had as ransom. Now I'm a privateer and ready to fight."

[CHAPTER IV.]

THE CHALLENGE.

Captain Vernon was one of the most uneasy men living.

He could not keep still.

Action was the watchword of his life.

He was a handsome man, young—that is, he had not reached his fortieth year—straight as an arrow, with firmness imprinted on every feature.

He could not have lived on a slow boat. He would have gone crazy.

Had he been on a man-of-war crawling along at two knots an hour, he would most likely have deserted.

On the Lively Bee he was the most active man.

He owned the vessel, and was proud of it.

When there was a rumor of war, he hurried to Washington and applied for a lettre de marque.

For those of our readers who do not understand the expression, we explain that a letter of marque gave permission to the owner of a private vessel to make war on another nation. Without this letter of authority, such war would be piracy. All nations, at the time of the war of 1812, issued letters of marque, and recognized the privateers as belligerents, often however ignoring the authority in the case of prisoners, and hanging the officers as pirates.

Captain Vernon had two objects to serve in his war on the English. He hated the British, and he wanted to enrich himself by prize money.

The Lively Bee was outside Sandy Hook, and was making nearly five knots an hour.

Every man on board had to work at racehorse speed, for the captain was always on the alert. Everything and everybody about him must be the fastest and best possible.

Although the war ships had started almost as soon as the privateer, they were nowhere in sight.

"Sail ho!"

The alarm was given by Scarron.

"Whereaway?"

"I see it, captain," said Tempest, pointing to a white speck on the horizon.

The captain took the glass and looked long and earnestly in the direction.

"She is in cruising canvas only. Most probably a merchantman," he said, as he handed the glass to Tempest.

"No, captain, she is a war ship, and British at that."

"Think so?"

"I'll bet my last dollar she's British, but she's too big for us to tackle."

Tempest paced the deck uneasily.

Here was a British war ship almost within fighting distance, and she was to be allowed to escape.

"Captain, a word with you."

"What is it, Tempest?"

"Have you a long-range gun on board?"

"A thirty-four pounder. Why?"

"Because I would like to draw closer to that Britisher and give her a shot."

"Is not that a dangerous game?"

"It is a risk. I think she only carries light-weight guns, perhaps twelve-pounders."

"Why do you think so?"

"Instinct. But apart from that feeling, you will find she is a French-rigged frigate, and they seldom carry anything above a twelve-pounder."

"You can take the risk if you like, Tempest."

"May I?"

"Yes, but you will be responsible for the Lively Bee."

It was a terrible responsibility for the young man to take, but there was something about him which inspired confidence, and Captain Vernon wanted to see of what mettle the man was made.

Orders were given, and the little schooner sailed direct for the big wars-man.

"Captain, we are within gunshot distance. What shall we do?"

Vernon walked aft, saying as he did so:

"You took the responsibility; do the best you can."

"Very well, captain."

On went the schooner until it was so close that the big Britisher seemed to shut out all view of the horizon.

"Scarron! we are going to beat to quarters."

"Sir! Mr. Tempest, sir!"

"I said we were going to beat to quarters. Have you any objections?"

"Seems to me we'll die within sight of New York anyway," muttered Scarron.

"Very likely," Tempest calmly replied. "All the same, we shall fight that vessel."

Instead of waiting for Scarron to give the order to the drummer, Tempest did it himself.

No sooner had the roll of the drum been wafted across the waters than there was a change manifest in the attitude of the cruiser.