CHAPTER XVI.

THE MERCHANT CAPTAIN'S CARGO.

"In with your canvas high, We shall want no sail to fly! Topsail, foresail, spanker and jib-- With the heart of oak in the oaken rib-- Shall serve us to win or die."

Lieutenant Biddle saw the English war vessel bearing down upon the _Frolic_.

He had hoped to take her into port, but his hopes were rudely shattered by the appearance of the English frigate.

For he recognized her as the _Poietiers_, a British seventy-four gun ship.

To fight was impossible, and to escape seemed equally so.

Both the _Frolic's_ masts had gone by the board within a few minutes after the flag was struck.

At the very moment the man in the crow's-nest sighted the _Poietiers_, the prize crew was working hard to clear from her decks the dead bodies, wreckage, and tangled mass of rigging, which made navigation impossible.

The sea was rough, the wind heavy.

The _Frolic_ was tossed about in the trough of the sea, a helpless mass.

The lieutenant looked over the billowy waters to see if any help was at hand.

The _Wasp_ had seen the _Poietiers_ almost as soon as she had been sighted by the _Frolic_.

Captain Jones examined his guns, and found that he had no chance to fight successfully with the new enemy.

Even had the _Wasp_ been fresh and ready for battle, the chances would have been slight, for the British frigate was in every way the superior of the American sloop.

Jones sighed as he ordered the sails to be set for retreat.

It was better to run away than fight under such disadvantages.

But the sails, when shaken out, were found to have been cut to pieces by the _Frolic's_ shot.

"Beat to quarters!" shouted the captain.

The men understood that the _Wasp_ would sting as long as possible.

"Clear the deck for action!"

The Stars and Stripes was run up the halliards, and the crew gave a hearty and lusty cheer, though they knew their defeat and death were near.

The _Poietiers_ sailed down upon the almost helpless _Wasp_, and fired a broadside.

Captain Jones answered with another broadside. It was plucky, and the Britishers were surprised.

They thought bulldog courage was only found under the Union Jack.

The plucky commander of the _Wasp_ tried hard to get close to the _Poietiers_, so that he might board her.

He had resolved that it would be better for every one of his men to die fighting than that they should be taken prisoners.

But fate was against him.

The Britishers saw his object, and took every means to prevent him achieving it.

Broadside followed broadside in rapid succession, and further resistance was useless.

The triumph of the _Wasp_ was short-lived, but the _Poietiers_ did not feel much elated over its victory, for the _Wasp_ had made a gallant fight.

The _Lively Bee_ had watched the fight, unable to render any effective assistance.

Captain Vernon had seen the merchantman, and as he was cruising for revenue, as well as patriotism, he coveted the rich prize.

"What do you make of her?" asked Vernon, as he watched Tempest examine the brig.

"She is a rich prize, but armed."

"You think so?"

"Yes, and there are at least a dozen fighting men in the crew."

"Can you see her name?"

"I--wait a moment--yes, she is the _Caroline_, of Bristol."

"The _Caroline_, of Bristol? Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite so. Why?"

"She is worth two hundred thousand dollars to us. I know her cargo well. We must capture her."

"Can we?"

"We must. The _Frolic_ is useless; the _Poietiers_ has all she can do to look after her prisoners. Our opportunity will come."

"Captain, don't think me weak, but my heart beats most violently when I look at that brig; why, I know not."

"It is not weakness. You are as brave as a lion, Tempest; I know the feeling. The risk is great, the odds against us, but I have a presentiment we shall win."

"God grant it."

Soon all was activity on board the _Lively Bee_.

Every preparation was made, but so secretly that not even the strongest glass could discern much out of the ordinary going on.

To the merchant captain the _Lively Bee_ appeared to be a schooner waiting about for any chance wreckage; or merely with a desire to see the naval fight; for, as we know, the privateer had a most innocent look.

"One broadside from the _Poietiers_ will sink us," remarked Tempest.

"Certainly, therefore I would not risk a fight until night," answered Vernon.

Leaving the privateer, let us look at the merchantman, whose fate was trembling in the balance.

As Vernon had said, the _Caroline_ was one of the richest prizes in American waters.

She was a stanch, trim brig, and as beautiful as any picture.

In fact, so clean was her hull, so bright her deck, the rigging was so new and perfect, that it was really hard to believe she had buffeted the waves or encountered any storms.

The captain, knowing the value of his cargo, had induced the _Poietiers_ to give him three small cannon and half a dozen men.

"We may get parted, and then--I don't want to feel I can make no resistance," he pleaded; and his plea was graciously acknowledged.

But the _Caroline_ carried a cargo that was not entered on the manifest.

The captain had indulged in a little speculation of his own, and, in his eyes, that one little bit of cargo, though its weight could not have been more than a hundred and twenty pounds, was more valuable than all the merchandise put together.

As night approached, the _Poietiers_ signaled the _Caroline_ to keep close, or no protection could be afforded.

Captain Carter of the good ship _Caroline_ had been cogitating for an hour or two as to whether he should not try to make his trip alone.

He wanted to reach Jamaica, and he had been already so much delayed that he was chafing at his slow progress.

So when the _Poietiers_ ordered him to keep close, and perhaps even follow the war ship for a few days longer, Carter put his thumb to his nose and extended his fingers in a most vulgar manner.

But then, the captain of the _Caroline_ was not a refined man.

He was young, and was a member of a good family, but he had always been a black sheep, and his own friends wondered that he had not turned pirate instead of merchant skipper.

He was possessed of a very hot and ungovernable temper, but would go to the extreme of kindness to those he had bullied and ill-used when his temper subsided.

The captain of the _Poietiers_ did not see the contemptuous action of his merchant brother, and so signaled again.

This time the flags were run up in reply:

"All right."

It so happened that, dark as the night was naturally, it was made worse and more unpleasant by a thick, damp fog.

This was just what the _Lively Bee_ wanted, but it reminded Captain Carter so much of England that he cursed the fog, and muttered some imprecation on the weather and things in general.

Then he felt easier.

He descended to his cabin, but did not stay there long.

He wanted to see that his own special cargo was safe, and for half an hour he was engaged in that occupation.

He was like a raving lunatic when he resought his own cabin.

His cargo was human.

And a pretty piece of humanity it was.

With skin as pure as alabaster, with eyes brighter than diamonds, and lips whose color would shame the rubies, the girl stood defiantly in the center of the cabin.

She was a prisoner.

Carter had never seen so beautiful a woman before, or at least had never seen one whose charms had so smitten his heart.

He had met her on land, and at once laid siege to her affections.

She was ladylike in her refusal of his affections; he was persistent.

She had at last to threaten him with the vengeance of her family if he did not leave her in peace.

He was exasperated.

Desperation made him determine to have her, by fair means or foul.

When he saw she was firm in her refusal to listen to him, he awaited his opportunity, and by means of a bribe induced two fellows to abduct her and take her on board his vessel.

She had been kept a prisoner for nearly a month, and Carter wanted to hasten to Jamaica, where he could find some clergyman who would perform the ceremony of marriage, even though the bride was opposed.

The young lady had been particularly strong in her language on the night of the fog.

"Captain Carter, I have told you I will never be your wife. Touch me, dare to come within a yard of me, and I will kill you as I would a snake. Force me to the altar, and, Heaven be my witness, I will kill myself before the sacred shrine!"

There was so much earnestness in her manner that Carter recoiled, muttering curses on her and womankind in general.