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.
The crew were now on the alert, and an answering roll of the drum told
the little schooner that the Britisher accepted the challenge.
It was perfectly safe to do so.
What chance had a little privateer against a trim, well-built war
cruiser?
Tempest had the long gun loaded, and he took sight himself.
The Britisher ran up the Union Jack as a defiance, an act answered by
the raising of the Stars and Stripes.
No one on board the cruiser had any idea that the privateer could carry
so heavy a gun as a thirty-four-pounder.
The gun was ready, the match applied.
The _Lively Bee_ quivered and shook, but that was all.
The shot tore through the rigging, plowing along the deck of the
cruiser, and disabling or killing a dozen men.
A broadside was fired, but the shots fell short of the _Lively Bee_.
It was as Tempest thought--she had only light guns.
One more shot was fired by the young lieutenant, and a hole was bored
in the bow of the cruiser.
"We have taught her a lesson, captain, but we cannot fight her."
"No; what do you intend doing?"
"The fleet is near."
"I see; I think I understand."
Captain Vernon walked down to his cabin, leaving all command in the
hands of his young officer.
"He has spunk, and I like him; he has grit and will pull through," he
said, as he threw himself down on the seat.
Tempest lowered the Stars and Stripes, and the Britisher took it, as he
intended, as a sign of surrender.
The cruiser now showed itself plainly, and its name, the _Belvidera_,
was discernible through the glass.
"I thought she was French," said Tempest.
"What are you going to do, sir?" asked Scarron. "Surrender?"
"No, sir. I shall never surrender until it is to Death. Give orders;
let the _Lively Bee_ show her heels to the Britisher, quick, or we may
get raked with shot."
On sped the privateer, and the cruiser followed quickly after her.
Then the _Lively Bee_ tacked, and the _Belvidera_ saw, when almost too
late, that she had been led nearly within gunshot of Commodore Rodgers'
flagship, the _President_.
Both vessels began preparing for a test of skillful marksmanship, and
for that most interesting of all engagements--a naval duel.
On the _Belvidera_ the English sailors were busily engaged in shifting
long eighteens and carronades to the stern, making a battery of
stern-chasers mounting four guns.
The _Lively Bee_ watched the preparations, and occasionally sent a
shot tearing across the _Belvidera's_ deck, throwing the crew into
confusion.