A RICH PRIZE.
"Under the night's dark-blue,
Steering steady and true,
The _Lively Bee_ went through.
And the starry ensign leaped above,
Round which the wind, like a fluttering dove,
Cooed low."
Captain Carter was mad. He had coveted the fair woman and had stained
his soul with crime's dark flood to abduct her from her home and to his
ship, and had hoped that, when she saw how hopeless was her chance of
escape, she would forget her antipathy and consent to be his wife.
He had tried every form of persuasion, had even promised to leave the
sea and settle on land, and as an extra inducement had offered to
abjure his country and become an American citizen.
But only the more determined was the fair one to withstand his wooing.
All this passed in review across his mind as he paced his cabin
uneasily.
He was wretched. Perhaps the constant blowing of the fog horn added
to his wretchedness, for there is nothing more melancholy than the
sound made by the human breath when it passes through one of those
instruments of torture known as a fog horn.
"What now?" he asked angrily as the officer in charge entered the
captain's cabin.
"A boat is coming alongside, sir."
"A boat? Then it must be from the _Poietiers_."
"Ay, ay, sir, doubtless it is, unless it be from some Yankee----"
An angry scowl on the captain's face led his officer to believe a hasty
exit would be advisable.
Captain Carter was soon on deck.
The fog lay over the water with a darkness which could almost be felt.
Only the slightest wind stirred the waves, and the captain almost
laughed at the thought of any enemy approaching.
He listened, but no sound smote upon his ear.
"I hear no boat, Gordon," he said. "Yet there is something like the
sound of oars, though there is no noise of the rowlocks."
Gordon placed his partly closed hand before his mouth, trumpet-fashion,
and whispered the one word:
"Sweeps!"
Carter laughed harshly.
It was not a good sign when he indulged in a laugh, and Gordon knew it.
"What do you mean by sweeps?" he asked.
"Why, cap'n, as to that, I saw a Yankee schooner lying about all day
a-watching us."
"You did? So did I. But you don't think any Yankee would venture to
touch us in the dark, and the _Poietiers_ so near?"
"As to that, cap'n, them Yanks can see in a fog, or the dark, as well
as in daylight, but I'm blessed if there isn't a boat nearby."
Carter put his hands to his lips, and in a voice louder than any fog
horn, cried:
"Boat ahoy! where are you?"
There was a slight cessation of the sound of oars, but no further
notice was taken.
And again, with the fullest force of his lungs, the captain shouted:
"Boat ahoy! where are you going?"
An indistinct voice replied:
"What ship hails? Ahoy there!"
"Give me your name," cried Carter, "or I'll fire!"
A long laugh was distinctly heard by those on the deck of the
_Caroline_, followed by the question:
"What ship hails?"
"The _Caroline_, of Bristol," answered the captain. "Your name?"
"The _Lively Bee_, privateer!" was the daring answer.
The merchant captain saw now that he was in danger.
His coolness forsook him, and he cursed his officers as though they
were to blame.
"On deck, all of you!" he shouted.
"Make ready to repel boarders!"
Gordon took up the cry and repeated it, in tones loud and stentorian,
down the hatchway, adding various expletives by way of emphasis.
The men came hurrying up the ladders, all excited and angry at being
disturbed.
They heard the regular dip of the oars, but the fog was too dense for
the _Lively Bee_ to be seen.
The crew of the _Caroline_, armed with pistols and cutlasses, awaited
the enemy.
The cannon were of little or no use, for it was only a waste of effort
to fire at random, and the _Lively Bee_ was hidden from view.
Captain Vernon knew that the _Poietiers_ was very close, and so the
less noise made the better.
He had said: "Use no pistols if you can help." And the men answered in
their cheery way: "Ay, ay, sir!"
When the privateer was within a few yards of the English brig her tall
spars were for the first time visible.
A fusillade of pistol shots rattled through the rigging, but did no
serious damage.
The privateersmen crouched below the bulwarks of their taut little
schooner until her bow passed over the waist of the brig.
Then, with a ringing cheer, these daring men sprang up and made a
simultaneous leap into the _Caroline's_ rigging.
They swarmed to her deck like a crowd of wasps, bent on stinging their
victims to death.
Cutlasses were vigorously used.
The sharp clang of steel was drowned at times by the groans of
the wounded, the quick crack of the pistols only seemed like an
accompaniment to the clashing of the cutlasses.
The Englishmen were driven back, not by weight of numbers, but partly
because they were taken unawares, and most of them aroused from slumber.
But in prowess the crew of the privateer had also the advantage.
They were born fighters, and every blow was given with intent to kill.
Captain Carter had fought furiously, but had been wounded fatally by a
cutlass blow from John Tempest.
Nearly all the crew of the _Caroline_ lay on the deck, with wounds
great or small.
It was a dismal sight, as the privateersmen moved around with lanterns
looking at the faces of the dead and dying.
"Can there be any one below?" asked Tempest.
"I thought I heard a cry, sir," answered Scarron.
"Ay, a woman's cry."
"Not likely that same, sir, asking your pardon for being so bold, but
women don't go to sea at times like these."
"We must search the ship and report."
"Ay, ay, sir; it is a great prize we have made."
"Can we get it to port, think you?"
"That's what I'd like to know, sir; it will be hard work, for she must
be a hundred and fifty ton heavier than the _Lively Bee_."
"Double that, Scarron."
Mr. Tempest took a lantern and went down the companionway.
The captain's cabin was untenanted; but on the other side of the
gangway was another cabin, the door of which was locked.
"Is any one in there?" shouted the young officer, but received no
answer.
"Open the door!" he shouted again, but still his command was unheeded.
"Mr. Scarron, I feel sure there is some one in that room. Can you break
open the door?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
Mr. Scarron's foot was sent against the door with such force that the
panels were splintered, and even the frame split asunder.
Tempest held up the lantern to look around the little cabin.
"Great Heaven! A woman," he exclaimed.
And there, huddled upon the floor insensible, lay a female form.
"Captain's wife!" muttered Scarron. "Poor woman, she does not know she
is a widow."
"She is too young to be his wife," said Tempest. "Come, help me move
her."
"Perhaps she is dead."
"No, no, sir; I saw her hand move, and blow me, sir, but she has a
pretty hand; if only her face----"
"Stop that, Scarron; show me a light here. This is no time for talk
like that. We have all our work before us, and but little time to do
it."
While Mr. Scarron held the lantern, Lieutenant Tempest raised the
prostrate girl in his arms.
The light streamed across her face, and Tempest almost dropped his
burden.
A shriek-like exclamation burst from him.
"Bertha!"
He raised her still more, so that he could look closer into her
features.
"My God, am I dreaming?" he exclaimed, and then, seeing Scarron's
surprised face, he continued:
"This lady is my betrothed; but how she came here I cannot say."
Scarron turned his head away, and muttered to himself:
"Poor fellow! He has been deceived. Why will men trust woman? She was
false, as they all are."
Although Tempest recognized his betrothed, and his heart naturally
wished for her recovery, he dare not stay.
She had swooned, and nature would work her recovery.
He would not neglect his duty, and there was much to be done, or the
rich prize would be taken from them.
He returned to the _Lively Bee_, and after converse with the captain it
was resolved to run back to the nearest port and take in the _Caroline_.
Already the fog was lifting, and the first rays of dawn breaking
through the night clouds.
The _Caroline_ and _Lively Bee_ must be many miles away before morning
came.
The crew was a small one, but to Tempest's great joy, he found among
the sailors of the _Caroline_ five Americans who had been impressed,
and who were delighted at the thought of sailing under the starry flag.
The sails were set, and though the risk of running landward in such
a fog was great, the two vessels attempted it, and when the sun made
its morning obeisance to nature, and the beautiful rays of jeweled
fire illumined the ocean, Captain Vernon congratulated Tempest on his
capture, and rejoiced to think that the _Poietiers_ was not in sight.