"'Charge the can cheerily,Send it round merrily;Here's to our country and captains commanding;To all who inheritOf Bainbridge the spirit,Disdaining to strike while a stick is left standing.'"
"'Charge the can cheerily,Send it round merrily;Here's to our country and captains commanding;To all who inheritOf Bainbridge the spirit,Disdaining to strike while a stick is left standing.'"
"That Scarron must be quite a poet, orpote, as Bob calls him," said Hamilton, "for Bob is always singing, and when I ask him where he learned the words, he always answers in the one word 'Scarron.'"
"Did he tell you the verse Scarron declares the men on theGuerrieresang when going into action?"
"No; what was it?"
"You remember the words, Tempest, don't you?"
"I think so," answered Tempest; "they ran something after this fashion:
"'Brave Dacres waved his sword,And he cried: "Now, lads, aboard;We'll soon stop their singing,Yankee Doodle Dandy, O!"'"
"'Brave Dacres waved his sword,And he cried: "Now, lads, aboard;We'll soon stop their singing,Yankee Doodle Dandy, O!"'"
"Yes, those were the words, and I remember Scarron singing a song giving our side of the story:
"'Ye tars of our country, who seek on the main,The cause for the wrongs your country sustain,Rejoice and be merry, for bragging John Bull,Has got a sound drubbing from brave Captain Hull.'"
"'Ye tars of our country, who seek on the main,The cause for the wrongs your country sustain,Rejoice and be merry, for bragging John Bull,Has got a sound drubbing from brave Captain Hull.'"
The evening was far advanced before our friends thought of parting.
Tempest was the first to rise; he had not forgotten that his bride was alone.
Hamilton and Vernon had another bottle of wine, and were swearing eternal friendship when a constable, orwatchman, as he was then called, entered, and looking at the two seamen, asked:
"Do either of you gentlemen know a sea dog called Bob?"
"Bob! yes; what of him?"
"He is in trouble and wants to see you—not that you can do him any good."
"What is the matter?" asked Vernon.
"Oh, sir, as to that, it is a hanging matter. He is likely to die in a lofty position, 'twixt heaven and earth."
"What mean you, fellow?"
"Don't follow me; I am the watch."
"Are you? Then lead on, that I may see Bob, who at least will talk sense."
"Poor young boy, he'll be hanged, oh, yes, he will, and even your honors cannot save him."
A LESSON IN MILITARY LAW.
Even the charms of Bertha Tempest's company did not cause her husband to neglect his duty.
When he was told that Bob was in trouble, he at once deemed it to be his duty and a privilege to go with Vernon and see in what the boy's danger consisted.
Bob was one of nature's rough gems, and Tempest believed there was a future for him which would repay Scarron for his kindness in adopting the waif.
"Lead on!" commanded Vernon, as the watchman seemed to hesitate.
Perhaps it was the hope of receiving something a little warmer than the cold air of the night which made the officer of the law linger over the blazing logs of wood on the massive andirons.
But Vernon, though he liked the fire's warmth as much as did the watchman, was eager to find Bob.
"Lead on. I must see the powder-monkey without delay."
"Powder-monkey! ha, ha, ha, that's good, it just suits. Eh?"
"What were you saying?" asked Vernon.
"Nothing, your honor."
"But you laughed——"
"Yes, your honor, I laughed—ha, ha, ha!—but at my thoughts."
"If your thoughts were so interesting I would like to laugh with you."
Vernon was in an unusually pleasant humor; perhapsthe genial influence of the wine and the sharpness of the winter air combined made him feel bright and cheerful.
"Come now, your thoughts, watchman; what were they like?" added Tempest.
"But your honor may be thinking I'm presuming——"
"No, no. Come, let us hear them."
"Well, your honor did call that harum-scarum boy, whose neck is likely to be lengthened, unless the good Lord forbid, a powder-monkey—ha, ha, ha!"
"Ha, ha, ha! So he is a powder-monkey," laughed Vernon, "and I have several more of them on my ship."
"Audacious monkeys!" said the watchman.
"No, powder-monkeys. Perhaps you do not understand——"
"Never mind, sir. I'd like to remember that name, and have a laugh at it many a time."
It was no use trying to explain to the watchman, so Vernon desisted and walked along by the side of the officer, threading the streets, which were but sparsely built up in those days, to the place where Bob was confined.
The lockup was near the Potomac, and not far from the then new navy yard.
Bob was so great a criminal in the eyes of the watchman that, to prevent his escape, he had been placed in the stocks.
He was seated on a hard bench, his ankles fastened securely through holes in a movable board in front of him.
It was impossible for him to stand up, and as his seat was loose, if he wriggled about much the bench would be overturned, and he would fall on his back, with his feet, still imprisoned, above his head.
"Bob, what means this?" asked Vernon.
"I'm glad your honor came; but, sir, the watch tells me I'm to be hanged at daybreak. Not that I minds death—a powder-monkey ought not to be afeared—butI'd like to meet it on the deck of theLively Bee, sir, and I'd like an English bullet to take me off rather than American rope."
"What are you talking about? What have you been doing?"
"Nothing, sir. Nothing."
Now this was a strange thing. Here was a boy in the stocks, told he was to die at daybreak, and yet declaring that he was guiltless of all crime.
"But with what are you charged?" asked Tempest.
"Lor', your honor, they didn't charge me anything. I'd have paid if they'd let me, but they said I must die."
"But you must have done something wrong."
"If I did I'm tarnation sorry, but I ain't sure I did wrong."
"Tell us all."
"Well, your honor, I was expecting to leave the city to-morrow with the captain"—meaning Tempest—"and I kind o' thought that I'd see the big guns in the yard down there, so as I could tell the boys and Mr. Scarron all about them. So I went, and found the gates all locked; but I climbed the wall and got over. Then, you know, I walked about, looking at the guns, and I didn't see one as good as ours. A man came up to me and looked at my face for a long time before he spoke, and then he said: 'Who are you?' and I said, 'Bob.' 'Bob what?' says he, and I answered kind o' proud-like, 'No, I ain't Bob Watt; I'd more likely be Bob Decatur, or Bob Porter, or Bob Vernon, or Bob Hull,' I answered all in a breath, for I was mad; I thought Watt was English, and I didn't want to be thought anything but American. So he says, 'What's your other name?' and I thought he meant again that my name was Watt, so I swore, asking your honor's pardon——"
"Tell your story shortly," interrupted Vernon.
"It isn't a story, your honor, it's the truth, every word of it."
"Go on."
"With that he struck at me, and I picked up a lanyard and knocked him on the head. He said he'd have me locked up, and I told him to do so, and if he did, Dolly Madison would look after me——"
"Dolly Madison—who is that?"
"Lor', your honor, it's the lady as lives at the White House—the President's wife—they all call her Dolly, and she's a friend of mine."
"You should speak more respectfully of the first lady in the land, Bob," Tempest remarked warmly.
"Now, Bob, that is all, is it?"
"No, your honor."
"What other crime did you commit?"
"The man asked me what I was doing there, and I told him, and I said that the gun on theLively Beewas better than any they'd got. Then he showed how ignorant he was, for he said as how theLively Beewas English, or if not, then she was only a private craft. With that I hit him again with the lanyard—I'd been busy while I was a-talking, and had put a good knot in the end, and, oh, my, you should ha' seen him fall! He went kersplash through a window and smashed it all to pieces. Then a chap came out with a gun, and I asked him what the window would cost, for I'd pay for it. He put up his gun, and I said, 'Don't shoot, I'll pay for all the damage.' But some more came running up, and I was tied up with a rope, and brought here, and the chaps talked about treason and murder, though I didn't know what it meant. And that's all."
"Quite enough, too, Bob; I am afraid you are in Queer Street."
"Is that the name of this street, your honor?"
"Don't be a fool, Bob. You've killed a man——"
"Is that wrong, your honor?"
"Wrong? Why, it's murder!"
"But we killed a lot on theCarolineand theMonarchand——"
"But that was different, that was war."
"War? Well, and can't I kill a man as calls me a pirate?"
"No, Bob, or you will get hanged for it. Then you did wrong in going into the navy yard. That was treason; you might have been an enemy."
"I don't understand all your fine lingo, your honor. When I swam to theMonarchand climbed on deck and brought away the flag, you said I was a hero, for you wanted to know the size of the guns and all about theMonarch; now, when I climb a wall to look at our own guns—for they are American guns, aren't they?—then I'm to die, for that's wrong."
It was hard to make Bob see the difference between murder and lawful killing.
As the poet Young wrote a hundred and fifty years before, Bob philosophized:
"One to destroy is murder by the law;And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe.To murder thousands, takes a specious nameWar's glorious art, and gives immortal fame."
"One to destroy is murder by the law;And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe.To murder thousands, takes a specious nameWar's glorious art, and gives immortal fame."
No wonder that the poor illiterate powder-monkey was unable to see the difference in the degree of guilt.
"I will see what can be done, Bob, but I am afraid you are in a bad fix."
"See Dolly—I ask pardon, Mrs. Madison—and she will see to me."
"What can we do?" asked Tempest.
"I don't see my way clear. If I were on the deck ofmy own vessel I could adjudicate, but the laws on land are so confoundedly strange," answered Vernon.
"But no murder was intended——"
"No, but what right had Bob in the place at all?"
"A boyish trick."
"Granted, but he had no right to use force. What does he mean by referring to Mrs. Madison?"
Tempest told him of the scene at the banquet, and though the captain of theLively Beewas feeling far from cheerful, he was compelled to laugh at the comical adventures of the powder-monkey at the White House.
"We must find out whether the man is alive or dead," said Vernon, as the story of Bob's danger was again thought of.
"How?"
"We must go to the navy yard."
"Will not the morning do?"
"No. Why delay? I am sure Mistress Tempest will excuse you."
"I was not thinking of myself," answered Tempest; "but shall we not appear overanxious?"
"Zounds, man! I'd drag the President from his bed if I could save Bob."
And Tempest could well believe his captain capable of doing so.
The two visited the navy yard, and the officer on duty received them courteously.
He, however, declined to answer the question respecting the man who had been struck by Bob.
"You see, it really makes no difference whether he is alive or dead."
"It does, though."
"To the man and his family, yes, but to 'Bob' as you call him, no."
"How do you reason that out?" asked Tempest.
The man was evidently fond of talking, and crossed his legs with an assumption of comfort as he spoke.
"We are at war, you admit that?"
"Certainly."
"Then, by the military code, for any one to enter an arsenal or navy yard without permission is to incur the fate of a spy. You know what that is?"
"Death."
"Just so; then Bob, climbing the wall and examining our guns, is a spy, and therefore must die."
"But he is a good American, though an ignorant one."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"Then in that case it is a pity, but we must expect to lose some good Americans in war times."
"But he is not a spy."
"Not now; no, he is in the stocks, but according to the laws of war he was a spy."
"The court must decide that."
"Yes; but it will be after his death."
"After his death?"
"Certainly. He will die at sunrise."
"Explain yourself. Who has adjudged him worthy of death?" asked Vernon earnestly.
"We are at war?"
"Certainly. This is admitted, or I should not have been thanked by the President for the captures I have made on the high seas."
Ignoring the latter part of Vernon's speech, the officer continued:
"Then being at war, an assault on an officer while on duty is an assault on the nation, and that is treason, and the punishment of treason is death."
"But the courts——"
"May say Bob was innocent, and his family will have that gratification, but he will be dead."
"Why so?"
"We are at war—you are impatient—well, you admit that. Now, the officer who was assaulted was a sentry; an attack on a sentry during war time is an offense punishable by death, and the colonel commanding orders it within twenty-four hours."
"Who is the officer in command?"
"I am."
"But you have not ordered Bob's execution?"
"No, fortunately my superior happened to be here at the time. He gave the order, I shall carry it out."
"Where can he be found?"
"That I know not, for he left no word where he was going; but he is not expected home until the morning."
"What is the use of our staying here?" asked Tempest,sotto voce.
The officer heard the question, however, and took it upon himself to answer.
"Nothing, unless you like to sit by the fire and await the execution."
"Zounds, man, what do you take us for?" asked Vernon, indignantly.
"Most worthy gentlemen, who have had a most wholesome lesson in military law."
BOB'S GOOD ANGEL.
Our friends walked away, thoroughly mad with the officer, who had, however, only done his duty.
That Bob was condemned to death on such short notice and poor evidence may appear strange to our readers, but they must remember that the country was at war.
England had invaded the States, and had boldly declared that Washington should be reduced to ashes.
The republic was only a few years old, and there were many of the old tories who believed that England would subjugate the new nation, and reduce it to a principality or dependency of Britain.
These tories, while professedly loyal to the government, were more the friends of England.
They loved the glare and glitter of a court, and yearned for a native aristocracy. A king could confer titles, and these superficial creatures felt that a title was something worth having.
The government knew all this—knew that there was a vast amount of veiled treason in Washington and all the cities; and therefore in all the forts, arsenals and navy yards military law prevailed.
Trivial offenses were treated as though they had taken place before the enemy; the death penalty was meted out, without compunction, for breaches of discipline which at other times would have only received the punishment of solitary confinement.
Harry Vernon knew that such law was maintained on a man-of-war, but he could not understand why it should be applied on land.
He was the more puzzled because Bob was handed over to the civil authorities, and was placed in the city stocks.
"What shall you do next?" asked Tempest.
The answer was given with such emphasis that Tempest never forgot and never could forget it.
"Do? Go to Paul Hamilton, and if he does not release Bob then I'll go to the President. If he refuses, dang me if I don't bring theLively Beeup the Potomac and fire its guns until——"
"Hush! that is treason!"
"Call it what you like. If hanging is in order, why, let them hang me; but I'll make them dance before they get the chance."
Paul Hamilton was in bed.
He thought Vernon and Tempest some drunken roysterers, and took no notice of their demand to see him.
The woman who answered the door of the secretary's modest house was alarmed.
Well she might be, for the men both wore swords and looked angry.
"Tell Secretary Hamilton that unless he comes down we will force our way to his chamber and——"
"Sirs, he will see you, I am sure he will! please let me go and ask him again."
"Go, my good girl, and hurry, for time is pressing."
The girl had not waited to hear the whole of the speech; she had flown upstairs, and with sobs and tears had impressed the secretary with the necessity for prompt action.
Dressed in a very unbecomingdéshabille, consisting of a long bathrobe, tied around the waist with a piece of red bellcord, and old-fashioned nightcap on his head, and a pair of slippers very much down at the heel, the popular statesman and cabinet minister descended the stairs.
"Well, sirs, what affair of great moment made you arouse me from my bed at this unseemly hour?"
Then, as a glimmer of light from the candle fell upon Tempest's face, the secretary exclaimed:
"You are Lieutenant Tempest, are you not?"
"Yes, sir, and this is Captain Vernon of theLively Bee."
"Ah! the bearer of the news which hath so charmed us. Forgive me for mybrusquerie, but why call so late?"
Paul Hamilton was the very pink of gentlemanly courtesy, and after overcoming his first outburst of anger at being aroused from his warm bed, he was most cordial.
Tempest explained the object of his visit.
"There must be something wrong," he said; "if the boy, as you say, is condemned to die, why is he not in the military keeping?"
"That passes comprehension."
"Wait, gentlemen, until I dress, and I will see what can be done."
The secretary was not long in making his appearance, and went at once with Vernon and Tempest to the White House.
"Only the President can stay an execution," he explained.
It was no pleasanter for a president to be aroused from his slumbers than for an ordinary private citizen, and James Madison obeyed the summons with some little reluctance.
An order was signed, granting a stay until further inquiry could be made.
With this document our friends again went to the lockup, and found Bob sleeping as peacefully as he could, considering his unpleasant seat.
When told he was not to die quite as soon as he had been led to anticipate, he evinced so much exuberant joy that his bench fell over, and he sat down on the floor with a force far from pleasant.
Knowing that Bob was in no further danger of losinghis life, our friends returned to their hotel, but not before learning that it was the commandant's daughter who had been the cause of Bob's transmission to the civil authorities.
Miss Jones had thought the civil courts would not allow the military execution, at least until after Bob had been duly tried.
Her father, wishing to find an excuse for saving the powder-monkey's life, had acceded to her request, and thus given an opportunity for Bob's friends to raise a point on constitutional law.
Early next morning our friends, accompanied this time by Bertha Tempest, paid another visit to Bob.
To their delight he had been released from the stocks, and was walking up and down the little room.
"Who released me?" he repeated in answer to an inquiry made by his captain. "Oh, Lor', it was an angel from heaven, no one else could be so beautiful, saving Miss Bertha—I ask pardon, Mistress Tempest—and we all know she is an angel."
"I do not understand," interrupted Vernon.
"Lor', sir, she came here an hour ago, and I was still sitting like a trussed fowl, and she says, 'Let the poor boy walk about a bit;' and the watchman says, 'To please you, miss, I'd do anything, for your smile is like a streak of sunshine on a cloudy day,' them's his words, and they were true, too, and I says, 'My cap'n, miss, is the bravest man as ever walked a deck, and if you want a good husband, why he is the man you could love.'"
"For shame, Bob, insulting a lady like that."
"She wasn't insulted, for her face showed she was pleased, it went so red, and she said as how she loved all brave men, but did not want a husband."
"Who is she, do you know?" asked Tempest.
"Yes, she gave the watchman her name, quite proudlike, she says to him 'Let the poor boy,' that's me, cap'n, 'out of those stocks,' that's what they calls them things"—pointing to the instrument of torture—"and she says, 'if any one wants to know why you did it, tell them that Miss Pauline Jones asked you.' But, cap'n, there she is—miss, this is the brave cap'n I told you about."
Captain Vernon turned and saw the blushing face of the commandant's daughter.
She knew that Bob's silly speech had been repeated to Vernon, and her face flushed, making her look far more beautiful, if that were possible.
She, however, possessed that easy grace which gave her control over her feelings, and mutual interest in the powder-monkey made her feel more at ease in talking with the captain of theLively Bee.
Bertha seemed to cotton to her at once, and before many minutes were passed the two ladies felt that they would be fast friends for life.
The man who had been assaulted by Bob did not die; in fact, was scarcely injured, and as the powder-monkey had said, Dolly Madison did intercede and secured the young rascal's release.
Three days later Vernon, Tempest and Bob bade farewell to Washington and hastened to rejoin the privateer.
Bertha had made many friends in the Capital City, and though she found the parting from her husband hard to bear, she knew she would be well cared for, and that loving friends would try to cheer her in her solitude.
THE REGINA, OF TORQUAY.
No one ever got a more royal welcome than did Bob, the powder-monkey, on his return to theLively Bee.
He was, in the eyes of the crew, a gallant hero.
Not only had he been rescued from death in a most marvelous manner, but he had dined at the White House and had been praised by the President's wife.
His stories of Washington were so colored that they equaled those of the Arabian Nights or Baron Munchausen.
On the night after leaving port, Captain Vernon called all the crew to the quarterdeck.
"Men, our prizes were rich ones. The prize money is here and will be divided. I did not give it to you while in port, for I know what temptations there are, and many of you have wives and families who have a better claim on you than the harpies who prey on Jackies at every port. Have I done right?"
"Yes, you always do right, cap'n," was the general response.
"But some of you have no wives, but only sweethearts, and for their sakes I have kept back the money. Did I do right?"
The single men were just as well pleased as had been the married ones.
The crew had thought the prizes had not been sold, and were perfectly content to wait.
Had the money been distributed while in port, the best part of it would have disappeared and perhaps some of the best men deserted.
Not willfully, but Jack on shore is as innocent as a baby, and soon loses his money.
Each man was surprised at the amount he had to receive, for even Bob's share was equal to two hundred dollars, while Mr. Scarron received four thousand.
The prize money is distributed according to rank, and as Bob once told a friend:
"The more fighting you do, the less prize money; the less hard work, the more money you get."
But they expected no exception to be made, and each received more than was expected.
Each man counted his share and jingled the coins and examined the bank notes with just as much interest as would a child.
When that little matter was settled, and the men again at their posts of duty, Tempest tapped the captain's shoulder.
"What ails thee, Master Captain?" he asked.
"What eyes!" murmured Vernon; but as he suddenly aroused from his reverie, he stammered like a schoolgirl.
Tempest could read the signs of the times, for he had experienced all the bliss of young love.
"Whose eyes?" he asked, smiling as he spoke.
"Whose? As if there were any other eyes on earth. I know you can sympathize with me, Tempest—I am in love."
"I know that."
"Could I help it? Did you ever see any one in your whole life more beautiful than——"
"Bertha," added Tempest softly.
"No—Pauline!"
"She is pretty, and I have no doubt she is as good as her face is lovely."
"Thank you, Tempest, for that. I don't want you tothink I disparage Bertha, for I have no wish; but when compared to Pauline——"
"Stay, captain. Let us be just. To me, my wife is the most beautiful, the most peerless woman on earth. To me she is perfection. I know of nothing which could be compared to her beauty, to the flash of her eye, to the sweetness of her smile. But what she is to me, Pauline Jones may be to you. Let us not make comparisons. We each judge from our own standpoint."
"But you are prejudiced——"
"Stay, captain, I have not finished. If you thought of my wife as I do—if she was to you the perfection of heaven transferred to earth, you would hate me for being her husband, for you would want her. If Pauline was to me what you think her, I should hate you, for I should wish to claim such beauty and perfection for myself. No, no, old fellow! Our loves are all they should be. And I pray Heaven to strike me dead that moment I first begin to think any woman more beautiful or more perfect than my Bertha."
"Sail, ho!"
That cry put a stop to all love talk.
From love-sick swains the officers were speedily transformed into warriors.
"Where away?" asked Vernon.
"Due east."
"What ensign does she fly?"
"I cannot see. She is a schooner, and evidently armed."
"Bear down upon her, that we may know her value."
All was excitement and flurry.
The crew were anxious for a brush with the enemy, and had come to think theLively Beeinvincible.
No United States war ship was near, and so the field was open to the little privateer.
To the great disgust of the crew, however, the distantcraft flew the Stars and Stripes, and so, was not an enemy.
For several days theLively Beeflew over the water without seeing the sail of an enemy's ship.
The men were getting weary and disheartened.
Amusements palled on them, and they were fast settling into a state of chronic grumbling.
Then it was that the masthead shouted:
"Sail, ho!"
And the very words sent a thrill through the crew, for they knew that unless there was a doubt about the nationality of the vessel, no cry would have been raised.
"Where away?"
"South, southwest," was the reply.
"What is she like?"
"A schooner."
"Good, and her ensign?"
"She flies the English colors."
Vernon ordered the Union Jack of England to be run up, and all appearances of war to be obliterated.
He gave orders to the helmsman to run theLively Beeclose to the stranger.
When within gun range, Vernon fired a shot across the Englishman's bow.
This was answered, and the stranger slackened sail.
The two vessels were now only a musket-shot away, and Vernon saw that the stranger was theRegina, of Torquay.
"Whither bound?" asked Vernon through the speaking trumpet.
"To Baltimore."
"What cargo?"
"Tin, and tinplates."
"Have you met with any Yankee men-of-war?"
"No. But two English ships are eastward ten degrees."
"Can we reach Jamaica without molestation?" asked Vernon.
"Easily, if your ship can fly as she ought."
The vessels had now got within pistol-shot, and Vernon could see that theReginacarried two guns.
He began to be suspicious.
Perhaps the ship was not a merchantman at all, but a regularly equipped man-of-war, with a good fighting crew below deck.
However, "faint heart never won fair lady," and Vernon determined to take the initiative.
He gave his orders to Scarron, and instantly the English flag was lowered, while the Stars and Stripes ran proudly up the halliards.
But the change was noticed quickly by theRegina, and almost as quick as a lightning flash, a large crew burst upon the deck, armed with cutlasses and boarding irons.
HOW BOB KEPT HIS OATH.
All doubt had ended. TheRegina, of Torquay, professedly laden with tin, was as well armed as a war vessel, and was either a British privateer or a man-of-war of the second class.
The captain of theLively Beewas not afraid of a hand-to-hand encounter.
But with all his courage, he almost trembled when he saw that he was outnumbered almost two to one.
He looked at his own men to see how they felt, and to his great joy their faces were radiant with happiness.
The men were wishing for a fight, and saw a foe worthy of their steel.
The two vessels were so close that a seaman could easily jump from one to the other.
TheReginatook the initiative, and commenced lashing the two vessels together.
But though the Britons were eager to fight, the Americans were equally so, and, headed by Vernon, the crew of theLively Beeleaped on theRegina'sdeck, much to the surprise of the latter's crew.
The two vessels grated against each other, and as they did so the British fired their pistols right in the faces of the Americans.
Through the powder smoke the flash of steel could be seen, and like Trojans the two crews fought.
The men cut and slashed with their cutlasses, and fired off their pistols with deadly earnestness.
Marksmen posted in the tops of each vessel picked offmen from the enemy's decks whenever an opportunity offered.
The captain of theReginasaw his men driven back, and sprang into the thickest of the fight to rally them.
As he did so it was seen that the blood was streaming from a wound in his thigh.
While every one felt sympathy with the brave man, yet that did not deter any from continuing the fight.
Harry Vernon sprang forward to meet his rival.
Their swords crossed, and the crews seemed to involuntarily fall back, as though to give the men a chance to fight a duel.
Vernon was in full vigor, and had not received a scratch.
Blow was met by blow, and the two men fought as though the whole issue of the war depended upon their prowess.
Presently one of the topmen, thinking that Vernon was in danger, fired, and a bullet crashed into the British captain's brain.
But when theRegina'screw saw their captain fall they fought more like demons than men.
The battle was one of the fiercest waged during the war.
The deck of theReginalooked like a slaughterhouse, the dead bodies lay scattered in piles and singly.
Every officer of the British ship was killed, and one of the crew, at last tired of the fight, took upon himself to strike the flag.
His action was received with an uproarious shout of joy, in which some of the British joined.
Both sides had suffered.
The British lost three-fourths of her crew, while theLively Beemourned the loss of Mr. Webster, the wounding of Scarron and four of the crew.
Poor Webster had fought like a giant, and several timeshis sword had been whetted with British blood before he received his fatal wound.
Scarron was badly wounded in the right thigh, and the surgeon of theReginadeclared that nothing but amputation could save his life.
Beyond a little surface wound in his arm, Vernon escaped, while Tempest lost his little finger, which was shot away early in the strife.
But very few thought of their wounds, for the prize was a rich one.
TheReginahad on its manifest an entry for a cargo of tin plates.
Now, at that time, tin was a valuable commodity, and the crew of theLively Beefelt that their fortunes were made.
It was impossible to transfer such a heavy cargo, and so theReginahad to be towed back to port.
A small crew was placed in charge, commanded by Tempest, and included the powder-monkey, our old friend Bob.
As Bob would not go without Scarron, and that old salt was in the hospital, otherwise the cockpit, of theRegina, Captain Vernon with very good grace allowed the powder-monkey to form part of the prize crew.
Among the prisoners was a West Indian, who had been 'pressed, and had been a very reluctant sailor.
He was a good seaman, an able pilot, and as clever a navigator as any that sailed the seas.
In fact, he had at one time been master of a brig, but grog had been his ruin, and he was reduced to the ranks, and as man before the mast earned his living.
Luiga, for such was the name he chose to go by, more, perhaps, because so few could pronounce it correctly, took a great fancy to Bob, and told him such yarns of the Southern seas as fairly turned his head.
"When this war is over, I shall turn pirate," said Bob, "for I want to be rich."
In Bob's experience, which was all obtained second-hand from yarns spun by the seamen, pirates were all wealthy.
The prizes they captured were all rich ones, and the dangers of a pirate's life were but few.
Luiga loved a wild life, and so stirred Bob's blood that the two became, not only fast friends, but prospective partners in a piratical cruise to be undertaken when the war with England was at an end.
Every leisure hour of the day and night the two were together, and Luiga gained such power over the powder-monkey that he felt he could do as he liked with him.
"How are we to get a fast schooner?" asked Bob one evening.
Luiga looked mysteriously wise as he whispered:
"Take the one that suits us best."
"But that would be stealing," suggested Bob, whereupon Luiga winked his eye and laughed.
Bob's face turned crimson, for he was not yet quite so hardened as to contemplate deliberate theft, though he was prepared to devote his life to it as a pirate.
"I know a vessel which would just suit," suggested Luiga.
"Do you? Where?"
"Can you keep a secret?"
"I swear I can."
"Then I will tell you. This is the very boat."
"But——"
"I know. You stole it from the English; why not let us steal it from the Americans? We would fight the English until the war was over, and then the vessel would be our own."
"I don't understand," said Bob half-hesitatingly, for he did not wish to be considered anything but smart.
Luiga proposed a grand scheme of mutiny.
TheReginacould be easily seized, with its cargo, and taken to the West Indies, where the tin could be disposed of and the cruise of the piratical craft commenced.
Bob listened attentively, and really appeared to agree to every particular.
"What is the tin worth?" asked Bob.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Luiga. "Tin is valuable, but there isn't so much of it."
"Not much?"
"No; there might be bullets underneath the tin."
And Luiga winked mysteriously.
"When could we seize the ship?" asked Bob.
"The very first dark or foggy night. I have spoken to four of the crew of theReginaand they have agreed to join."
Tempest, with that generosity which characterized his every action, had given the prisoners their freedom, and they had made use of it to plan a mutiny.
As far as was known, Bob was the only American in the secret.
Bob had sworn not to reveal the scheme, and he wanted to keep his oath, but he was equally determined to frustrate the mutineers, even if he had to forswear himself.
He could write a little, and made up his mind to reveal the plot to Tempest in that way.
But when he thought of all he would be compelled to write he grew despondent, for it would take too long.
Bob stole a piece of paper from the captain's desk, and a pencil.
Writing was pretty hard work. He sat down at the desk, and found it necessary to rest his head on his arm,so that his mouth would be on a line with the point of the pencil.
Then his tongue had to be between his lips, else how could he write?
Bob, as we know, had another peculiar habit; he could not think without scratching his head.
So, taken altogether, writing was an arduous undertaking.
After several attempts, Bob declared himself satisfied with his effusion.
It was as peculiar as the writer himself. Some of the letters were printed, and gave the missive a very strange appearance, especially when the printed letter came in the middle of a word.
"He made me swear not to tell," the letter commenced, "or your hair would stand on end."
Bob scratched his head as he read it.
"That's good!" he murmured. "I ain't splitting."
His spelling was as bad as his writing, but those little mistakes we have rectified, as it is with the subject matter, not the correctness of the orthography or chirography, that we have to deal.
"But if I dare tell you, you'd put all the prisoners in irons before the night got dark, and there may be bullets underneath the tin. Your boy, Bob."
When perfectly satisfied with the epistle, Bob began to wonder how he could give it to Tempest without the act being seen.
After considerable head scratching, he put the paper on Tempest's plate, the dinner table being set.
Then he stood outside the cabin to watch whether the letter reached its proper destination.
THE MUTINY QUELLED.
Lieutenant Tempest saw the paper as soon as he entered the cabin, and was very much inclined to resent the placing of dirty paper on his dinner plate.
But when he saw Bob's signature, he became amused.
He was about to throw the document away, when Bob shouted from the outside:
"Read it, sir."
"Ah! You there, Bob? What is it? Want more grog, or extra biscuits, or is it something you want for Mr. Scarron?"
Bob happened to see Luiga nearby, and knew that the West Indian was listening.
"Yes, cap'n," he answered, "the doctor sent me for some, and I didn't see you, so I wrote it down."
Tempest glanced over the paper, and saw at once that Bob was acting very diplomatically.
"Will you ask the doctor to see me about it? He had better come at once."
Luiga heard Tempest's remark and felt easier.
"Thought he had split. If he had I would have slit his throat for him before he was an hour older."
Tempest was alone.
"What does he mean?" he asked himself.
"'He made me swear.' Who did? 'Make my hair stand on end,' 'put prisoners in irons before night got dark'—really, Bob, your composition is an enigma. 'Bullets may be under the tin.' It is a conundrum hard to read."
The doctor entered at that moment.
Bob had sense enough to see that he was suspected by Luiga, and so he must remove that suspicion and trust to Tempest to find an excuse for the English doctor.
Luiga was close to the cabin when the doctor entered, and all his suspicions vanished when he heard Tempest say:
"Ah, doctor! Bob has been trying to make me understand what you want for poor Scarron. A doctor's prescription is usually hard to read, but Bob's is worse."
It so happened that the doctor had really commissioned Bob to ask Tempest for an extra allowance of grog for Scarron.
The English doctor was one of the garrulous kind, who gloried in the sound of his own voice.
"Smart boy, that Bob. I should say he is a real good fellow."
"Yes, as true as steel, though no great friend of your nation, doctor."
Luiga stayed no longer.
He was satisfied that Bob had not betrayed him.
The doctor stayed and chatted for half an hour, and Tempest enjoyed the change, for it was a pleasure to have an educated man as companion out on the open seas.
But all the time that the disciple of Esculapius was talking the lieutenant was puzzling his brain to know what Bob really meant.
"Place all the prisoners in irons. That seems harsh. Shall I do it, or shall I question Bob first?"
The latter course was resolved upon, and Bob was duly cross-examined; but he was true to his oath, although he evaded the strict spirit by saying:
"If I hadn't sworn not to tell you, cap'n, I should say that there would be mutiny the first dark night; but I did swear not to tell you, so cannot say it."
No diplomat ever got around a difficult problem easier than did Bob, and Tempest saw that the powder-monkey had some secret information which he could not make public.
The day passed on as most days do when the sea is calm and the sky unruffled by even a cloud, and Tempest hesitated on his course of action.
If theLively Beehad been nearer he would have sought advice from his captain, but that meant delay, and action must be taken at once.
It was better to be on the safe side, and he had resolved to imprison the men, when a sail was sighted.
That gave him the excuse he wanted.
The prisoners were ordered on deck, and, as they stood in line, Tempest saw an ominous scowl on more than one face.
"Men, I have sent for you to thank you for your behavior during the time you have been prisoners of war," he began, and the men wondered at such a novel introduction. "I have always believed in human nature, and still do so, but there are times when prudence demands certain precautions to be taken. A sail appears on the horizon, and we may have to fight; therefore, it becomes necessary to order you below until all danger has passed."
Luiga scowled and looked threateningly at Tempest.
"You'll place us in irons next, eh?"
"If it is necessary, yes," answered Tempest without a quiver in his voice.
"Then you'll get no chance with me. I'm a free man, and so are we all—eh, men?"
"Ay, ay, Luiga!"
"Then I say I'll be your cap'n, and there ain't men enough on this ship to say me nay. Will you stand by me?"
"Ay, ay, Luiga, we will."
"Seize him," cried Luiga, pointing to Tempest, who had stood calmly and stoically during the mutinous language.
But as soon as Luiga gave the order, he quietly raised his pistol and shot the West Indian dead.
Drawing his sword, he challenged the mutineers to come on and he would meet them single handed.
"No, no, we were wrong. We ain't murderers nor mutineers, we're fighters," said one, and his speech was echoed by the others.
"Tell me Luiga's plot and I will believe your honesty."
The spokesman told of the intended mutiny, and, to Tempest's surprise, told him that Luiga was always hinting that the boxes of tin contained bullets as well as that valuable commodity.
Although Tempest appeared to trust the men, he kept them under close surveillance.
Curiosity led him to have one of the boxes of tin opened, and, to his great surprise and joy, he found that under the sheets of tin there were hundreds of sovereigns, doubtless intended for the British paymaster-general.
Such a discovery was too important to be concealed from theLively Bee, and early the next morning Captain Vernon was signaled, and put off in a boat for theRegina.
Tempest told Vernon of his suspicion, and a general overhauling of the cargo resulted in the finding of over a hundred thousand pounds sterling.
The cargo was consigned to Thomas Arbuthnot, and Vernon remembered that the paymaster of the English army bore that name.
It was the richest prize taken during the war, and Vernon declared that if he was allowed to keep the prize he would quit privateering, and settle down on shore.
All speed was made to land, and Vernon reported his capture to the government.
He was allowed to keep his prize, and so all the crew of theLively Beeshared in the prize money, the amount of which almost took away their breath.
VERNON'S SUCCESS.
Intoxicated with success, the crew of theLively Beeurged Vernon to make one more voyage.
But he had given his word that he would retire, and though only to himself, it was binding.
"I would like theLively Beeto make another cruise," he said, "and if Lieutenant Tempest will take command I shall be delighted."
Tempest was still thirsting for glory, and accepted the offer.
"Go, my friend!" said Vernon, as the new captain of theLively Beewas leaving Baltimore to join the famous privateer—"go, bring back prizes if you can, act with honor, as I know you will, but above all remember that I would rather hear that theLively Beewas at the bottom of the sea than that she was captured by the British."
A number of privateers were in the Chesapeake Bay at the time, and many friends of the crews had assembled on the docks.
Those who heard the speech of Vernon cheered lustily.
"Never give up the ship!" cried one old salt.
"No, that I swear!" assented Tempest, solemnly.
Among those who watched the departure of the gallant privateersman stood Bertha Tempest and Pauline Jones.
Bertha's eyes were red, for she had parted again with the husband she so loved, while a glad light shone from the flashing orbs of Pauline.
Perhaps it was caused by the fact that Captain Harry Vernon—"Handsome Harry," as he was called in Washington—was to return to the Capital City with them.
Vernon was wealthy.
Not according to our ideas of wealth to-day, for we reckon riches to mean away up in the millions, whereas a man with two hundred thousand dollars in those days was looked upon as a veritable prodigy of wealth.
Harry Vernon had considerably over a hundred thousand dollars, and was well content with his fortune.
TheLively Beehad left the city, and was far out of sight.
In her track followed theTrue-blooded Yankeeof Boston and theLovely Lassof Salem, both first-class privateers, and both with records hard to beat.
Then came that fast-cruising schooner,Jack's Favorite, specially commissioned to search for theEssex, which had not been heard from for some time.
As Vernon saw them leave with all their wealth of canvas, a sigh escaped him.
Already he was secretly planning again for life on the ocean wave.
But when he looked at the sweet face of Pauline Jones, he felt that there was a harbor in which he would like to rest—a haven of peace if she did but share it with him.
Intrepid in war, fearless in the angriest storm, he yet was a very coward in her presence; for, although he loved her with an ardor amounting almost to worship, he was too bashful to tell of his love.
Perhaps the story would never have been told had not Bertha helped him.
And when, with blushing face and almost stammering tongue, Pauline admitted that Vernon was her ideal of bravery and courage, and that she admired him, he was so elated that Washington did not seem large enough for him to call his home.
But before the secret was known and Vernon's suspenseended, several weeks had passed, and the year had ripened into spring, and the buds and blossoms had developed into summer fruit and flowers.
No tidings had been received of theLively Bee, and Bertha was beginning to feel uneasy; her face was getting wan, her eyes were losing their luster.
Great excitement was of daily experience; sometimes the news making the people hilarious with joy, and at others plunging them into the depths of despair.
Washington was in mourning for the loss of Lawrence, who, though wounded, had shouted to his men:
"Never give up the ship!"
TheChesapeakehad been captured by theShannon, and brave Lawrence's dead body reposed in Canadian soil.
Then came the news of disasters on land, and the prospects were dark for the young Republic.
The patriotic soul of Harry Vernon was chafing at idleness, and he had almost resolved to fit out another privateer, but was persuaded to wait a little longer for news of theLively Bee.
Then came news of theEssex, and all the country was filled with the praises of Captain Porter, who had captured so many British vessels.
But while according so much praise to Porter, they did not fail to mete out their approbation of the courage of the young midshipman, Farragut, who, though a boy in years, had been given the command of the captured ship,Barclay.
All Washington was reading Farragut's letter home.
"I was sent as prize-master to theBarclay," he wrote. "This was an important event in my life; and when it was decided that I was to take the ship to Valparaiso, I felt no little pride at finding myself in command, at twelveyears of age. TheBarclayhad been recaptured from a Spanishguarda costa. The captain and his mate were on board; and I was to control the men sent from our frigate, while the captain was to navigate the vessel. When Captain Porter ordered us to proceed to Valparaiso, the captain of theBarclay, a violent-tempered old fellow, was furious.
"He told me that he should take theBarclaywhere he pleased, but never to Valparaiso.
"I considered that my day of trial had come, for I was a little afraid of the old fellow, as every one else was. But the time had come for me at least to play the man, so I mustered up courage and informed the captain that I desired the topsail filled away.
"He replied that he would shoot any man who dared to touch a rope without his orders; he 'would go his own course, and had no idea of trusting himself with a nut-shell'—meaning me. And then he went below for his pistols.
"I called my right-hand man of the crew, and told him my situation; I also informed him that I wanted the main topsail filled.
"He answered with a clear 'Ay, ay, sir!' in a manner which was not to be misunderstood, and my confidence was perfectly restored.
"From that moment I became master of the vessel, and immediately gave all necessary orders for making sail, notifying the captain not to come on deck with his pistols unless he wished to go overboard; for I would really have had little trouble in having such an order obeyed."
We can readily understand how such a letter would arouse the people to a frenzy of excitement.
And thus, in alternate enthusiasm and depression, the months passed away.
The people had not realized what war meant, they had not yet faced the dread monster, as in a few months they were destined to do—when the British marched into their city and burned the Capitol and the White House.
That was not dreamed of then, and the people feasted only on the news of distant conflict.
"If the war does not end by the New Year," said Vernon to Bertha Tempest, "I shall fit out another privateer."
"What would Pauline say?"
"Would she care?"
"Ask her."
"Bertha, you raise my hopes—why do you speak like that? You know something—does she care for me?"
"Why not ask her?"
"If I did and was repulsed——"
"But if you were not!"
"I will ask her. I will be bold. I will go on my knees and say: 'Pauline, I love you, will you be my wife?' and then if she repulses me, I shall—shall go to the war and not care what becomes of me."
"But if she says yes?"
Vernon was startled, for the question was asked by Pauline, who had entered unobserved.
"You heard?" asked Vernon, half idiotically, for unless she had heard she could not have asked him the question.
"Of course I heard what you said, you silly, conceited fellow!"
"And your answer?"
"Any one but you knew what it would be months ago."
"You mean it—you do love me?"
It is needless saying what answers were given to Vernon's questions.
Bertha had withdrawn and left the young people together,and the hours slipped by, to them uncounted and unheeded.
When Bertha did re-enter the room, Vernon exclaimed, with all the enthusiasm of a schoolboy:
"Bertha, we are to be married in two weeks; isn't it too bad that Pauline wants to wait so long?"