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:

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