HOMEWARD BOUND.
"Do not undress; be ready at any moment to go to quarters."
Such was the command given the men who were sent below to sleep, after
the watch was set for the night.
Tempest was not anxious for sleep, although he had been up all the
previous night.
He had sent word to Bertha that if she liked to walk the deck with him,
he should be pleased to have her company.
The lady was delighted.
She could not sleep, and the air of the little cabin was stifling.
She had been too much afraid to go on deck during the day, and had no
real knowledge of the great events which had transpired.
Flushed as Tempest was with victory, he yet hesitated to tell Bertha
all that had transpired, for war is no fit subject for feminine ears.
But she was fit to be a soldier's wife. Full of patriotic zeal, the
overthrow of the British was a subject she rejoiced to hear spoken
of; and when her own lover was the hero, her delight was beyond all
computation.
The sails of the _Caroline_ filled at the first puff of wind, and she
kept at hailing distance with the _Lively Bee_.
"Where are we bound now?" asked Bertha as she paced the deck, her hand
on Tempest's arm.
"Home!" was the answer.
"To stay?"
Instead of answering, Tempest said:
"We are at war with England. That country has destroyed some of our
cities and is devastating our land. She has claimed the supremacy of
the ocean, as you know. We have disputed her right. Now what is my
duty? My great ancestor left England in the _Mayflower_; he founded a
family unexcelled for its patriotism. His descendants, by marriage,
united the great tribes of the Indians with the white people. My father
fought with Greene at Bunker Hill and with Washington at Valley Forge.
What is my duty?"
Bertha Decatur did not hesitate in her answer.
"My brave boy, you must fight--until the end."
"I thought you would say so. But do you know what you told me when I
asked for this little hand?" asked Tempest, placing his hard hand on
her soft one.
"I said I would only marry a hero."
"And now----"
"I say the same."
"What constitutes a hero in your estimation?"
"I don't know, but I can tell you the name of one; he is my ideal----"
She turned away her head to hide her crimson blushes.
"What is his name, and I will try to imitate him."
Her hand trembled on his arm.
"Is it your uncle, the captain?" he asked.
She murmured so low that he almost thought he misunderstood her, for
the name he heard was his own.
"Do you mean it?" he asked eagerly.
"You know I do. Have you not known it long, long ago?"
"I hoped, and yet I feared----"
"You should not fear."
"Then, Bertha, dear, will you----" he hesitated for a few moments. Her
hand trembled, her face was turned away. "Will you become my wife as
soon as we land?"
"I am your prisoner, sir, and prisoners are not usually consulted about
their future," she answered mischievously.
"But I heard a lady say that if, as a prisoner, she was taken to the
altar, she would kill herself."
"But her captor was English."
"Then any American who might capture you----"
"You have taken me prisoner, and if you cannot keep me, why--why, the
bravest man shall have me. So there!"
"I do not fear now; and, Bertha, the first thing we will do when we
reach land will be to get married."
"What noise is that?" she suddenly asked. "Is it not horrible?"
"Hush! you must not say that. It is the men below who are singing. If
the hatchways were open you could hear the words."
As though one of the watch had heard the officer's words, the hatches
were thrown back, and the gruff voices of the men, who were too excited
to speak, were heard singing:
"'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.
Then charge the can cheerily,
Send it round merrily!
Here's to our country and captains commanding;
To all who inherit
Of Vernon the spirit
Disdaining to strike while a stick is left standing.'"
"Who is Vernon?" asked Bertha.
"The bravest and truest man who ever wore a blue jacket. The captain of
the _Lively Bee_."
"But he is a privateer."
"So am I. I entered his crew as a man before the mast. He made me first
officer. He searched me out, because your brother knew me. Vincent
told him my story, and Vernon has given me a chance to win you, my
darling."
"Hem! Ha! Ugh! Beg parding, sir, but my mate on the lookout says as how
he sees a strange sail, which is kinder suspicious."
The man had crept up quietly behind the lovers and had tried to attract
their attention by his coughing and strange noises.
"I will go forward, Smithson."
"Ay, ay, sir!" Then to himself he muttered: "He's a good sort, too good
for a privateer; he ought to be on a reg'lar man-o'-war, or better'n
that, a whaler away down in the Suthern seas. Blow me, but I like
whalin' better'n fightin', I do."
"Go below, Bertha, and try and get some sleep. No one shall disturb
your solitude, and I want some rose-bloom on your cheeks when you reach
land, you know."
Bertha Decatur went to her cabin, for the first time wishing that her
lover was anything but a fighting man. The danger was so great.
"I can pray for him," she said, "and who knows, mayhap prayers will
save his life."
"A sail, did you say?"
"Ay ay, sir, and suspicious, too. She has a narrow head to her
topsails, and looks like a Frenchman."
"Where away?"
Far away on the horizon, where the light was fast waning, a little
white speck appeared, hardly visible to the naked eye, but quite plain
through a glass, was a large ship on the port tack in cruising canvas
only.
"What do you think--is she too big for us to tackle?" asked Tempest.
"I am afraid so, sir."
"Where is the _Lively Bee_?"
The privateer was nowhere to be seen.
How had they missed her?
Surely no accident had happened to her; if so, signals would have been
fired.
"There she is, sir, far away to the west'ard."
The _Lively Bee_ had outdistanced the _Caroline_, and was only dimly
visible in the twilight.
"Spread all sails! Let us overtake the _Lively Bee_."
"Ay, ay, sir--but the vessel yonder?"
It was evident the man was in favor of stopping to fight, and the
_Caroline_ was in good fettle as regards guns, for she had transferred
those from the _Monarch_.
But Tempest never forgot that he was sailing under Captain Vernon,
and whatever his own inclination, he would take no action without
consultation with his chief.
"Haul your fore-sheet to windward!" he shouted to the men in the
forecastle. "Right your helm, quartermaster. We must show our heels to
the enemy for once."
On went the _Caroline_, as fast as the wind would carry her.
All was bustle on her deck, for all knew that unless they could
outdistance the ship which was looming up in the fast darkening
twilight, larger than ever, there would be no escaping a fight.
"That is the _Macedonian_, sir," said Scarron, touching his cap as he
spoke.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir, and we stand no chance if she gets within gunshot. The
_Caroline_ and _Lively Bee_ will change flags, and one and all our men
will get sent to Dartmoor prison."
"Then we must fly."
"Ay, sir, fly like the wind, or faster than the wind. See, the _Lively
Bee_ is coming back."
"Bless you, Vernon!" exclaimed Tempest aloud, "you never deserted a
friend yet."
"No, Mr. Tempest, and Harry Vernon never will. I can answer for that,"
said Scarron, thinking that his officer had spoken to him.
The night was coming on apace, and Tempest hoped that he might get near
enough the shore before morning to make attack dangerous.
An hour passed, and the _Lively Bee_ was within hailing distance.
"Is that the _Macedonian_?" asked Vernon.
"I think so, captain."
"Then we must show our heels, or go to Davy Jones' locker."
"That is just what I had ordered, sir. We must save the rich prize."
A light was seen to the westward, and Vernon muttered something like a
curse, for he knew the signal to be from a man-of-war.
"Between two fires, Tempest. Only Heaven can save us!" he shouted.
And the brave lieutenant replied:
"In God we'll trust, sir."
But all the same, Tempest felt very anxious, for he had on board the
one he loved better than life.