CHAPTER XXXII.

HOW BOB KEPT HIS OATH.

All doubt had ended. The _Regina_, of Torquay, professedly laden with tin, was as well armed as a war vessel, and was either a British privateer or a man-of-war of the second class.

The captain of the _Lively Bee_ was not afraid of a hand-to-hand encounter.

But with all his courage, he almost trembled when he saw that he was outnumbered almost two to one.

He looked at his own men to see how they felt, and to his great joy their faces were radiant with happiness.

The men were wishing for a fight, and saw a foe worthy of their steel.

The two vessels were so close that a seaman could easily jump from one to the other.

The _Regina_ took the initiative, and commenced lashing the two vessels together.

But though the Britons were eager to fight, the Americans were equally so, and, headed by Vernon, the crew of the _Lively Bee_ leaped on the _Regina's_ deck, much to the surprise of the latter's crew.

The two vessels grated against each other, and as they did so the British fired their pistols right in the faces of the Americans.

Through the powder smoke the flash of steel could be seen, and like Trojans the two crews fought.

The men cut and slashed with their cutlasses, and fired off their pistols with deadly earnestness.

Marksmen posted in the tops of each vessel picked off men from the enemy's decks whenever an opportunity offered.

The captain of the _Regina_ saw his men driven back, and sprang into the thickest of the fight to rally them.

As he did so it was seen that the blood was streaming from a wound in his thigh.

While every one felt sympathy with the brave man, yet that did not deter any from continuing the fight.

Harry Vernon sprang forward to meet his rival.

Their swords crossed, and the crews seemed to involuntarily fall back, as though to give the men a chance to fight a duel.

Vernon was in full vigor, and had not received a scratch.

Blow was met by blow, and the two men fought as though the whole issue of the war depended upon their prowess.

Presently one of the topmen, thinking that Vernon was in danger, fired, and a bullet crashed into the British captain's brain.

But when the _Regina's_ crew saw their captain fall they fought more like demons than men.

The battle was one of the fiercest waged during the war.

The deck of the _Regina_ looked like a slaughterhouse, the dead bodies lay scattered in piles and singly.

Every officer of the British ship was killed, and one of the crew, at last tired of the fight, took upon himself to strike the flag.

His action was received with an uproarious shout of joy, in which some of the British joined.

Both sides had suffered.

The British lost three-fourths of her crew, while the _Lively Bee_ mourned the loss of Mr. Webster, the wounding of Scarron and four of the crew.

Poor Webster had fought like a giant, and several times his sword had been whetted with British blood before he received his fatal wound.

Scarron was badly wounded in the right thigh, and the surgeon of the _Regina_ declared that nothing but amputation could save his life.

Beyond a little surface wound in his arm, Vernon escaped, while Tempest lost his little finger, which was shot away early in the strife.

But very few thought of their wounds, for the prize was a rich one.

The _Regina_ had on its manifest an entry for a cargo of tin plates.

Now, at that time, tin was a valuable commodity, and the crew of the _Lively Bee_ felt that their fortunes were made.

It was impossible to transfer such a heavy cargo, and so the _Regina_ had to be towed back to port.

A small crew was placed in charge, commanded by Tempest, and included the powder-monkey, our old friend Bob.

As Bob would not go without Scarron, and that old salt was in the hospital, otherwise the cockpit, of the _Regina_, Captain Vernon with very good grace allowed the powder-monkey to form part of the prize crew.

Among the prisoners was a West Indian, who had been 'pressed, and had been a very reluctant sailor.

He was a good seaman, an able pilot, and as clever a navigator as any that sailed the seas.

In fact, he had at one time been master of a brig, but grog had been his ruin, and he was reduced to the ranks, and as man before the mast earned his living.

Luiga, for such was the name he chose to go by, more, perhaps, because so few could pronounce it correctly, took a great fancy to Bob, and told him such yarns of the Southern seas as fairly turned his head.

"When this war is over, I shall turn pirate," said Bob, "for I want to be rich."

In Bob's experience, which was all obtained second-hand from yarns spun by the seamen, pirates were all wealthy.

The prizes they captured were all rich ones, and the dangers of a pirate's life were but few.

Luiga loved a wild life, and so stirred Bob's blood that the two became, not only fast friends, but prospective partners in a piratical cruise to be undertaken when the war with England was at an end.

Every leisure hour of the day and night the two were together, and Luiga gained such power over the powder-monkey that he felt he could do as he liked with him.

"How are we to get a fast schooner?" asked Bob one evening.

Luiga looked mysteriously wise as he whispered:

"Take the one that suits us best."

"But that would be stealing," suggested Bob, whereupon Luiga winked his eye and laughed.

Bob's face turned crimson, for he was not yet quite so hardened as to contemplate deliberate theft, though he was prepared to devote his life to it as a pirate.

"I know a vessel which would just suit," suggested Luiga.

"Do you? Where?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"I swear I can."

"Then I will tell you. This is the very boat."

"But----"

"I know. You stole it from the English; why not let us steal it from the Americans? We would fight the English until the war was over, and then the vessel would be our own."

"I don't understand," said Bob half-hesitatingly, for he did not wish to be considered anything but smart.

Luiga proposed a grand scheme of mutiny.

The _Regina_ could be easily seized, with its cargo, and taken to the West Indies, where the tin could be disposed of and the cruise of the piratical craft commenced.

Bob listened attentively, and really appeared to agree to every particular.

"What is the tin worth?" asked Bob.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Luiga. "Tin is valuable, but there isn't so much of it."

"Not much?"

"No; there might be bullets underneath the tin."

And Luiga winked mysteriously.

"When could we seize the ship?" asked Bob.

"The very first dark or foggy night. I have spoken to four of the crew of the _Regina_ and they have agreed to join."

Tempest, with that generosity which characterized his every action, had given the prisoners their freedom, and they had made use of it to plan a mutiny.

As far as was known, Bob was the only American in the secret.

Bob had sworn not to reveal the scheme, and he wanted to keep his oath, but he was equally determined to frustrate the mutineers, even if he had to forswear himself.

He could write a little, and made up his mind to reveal the plot to Tempest in that way.

But when he thought of all he would be compelled to write he grew despondent, for it would take too long.

Bob stole a piece of paper from the captain's desk, and a pencil.

Writing was pretty hard work. He sat down at the desk, and found it necessary to rest his head on his arm, so that his mouth would be on a line with the point of the pencil.

Then his tongue had to be between his lips, else how could he write?

Bob, as we know, had another peculiar habit; he could not think without scratching his head.

So, taken altogether, writing was an arduous undertaking.

After several attempts, Bob declared himself satisfied with his effusion.

It was as peculiar as the writer himself. Some of the letters were printed, and gave the missive a very strange appearance, especially when the printed letter came in the middle of a word.

"He made me swear not to tell," the letter commenced, "or your hair would stand on end."

Bob scratched his head as he read it.

"That's good!" he murmured. "I ain't splitting."

His spelling was as bad as his writing, but those little mistakes we have rectified, as it is with the subject matter, not the correctness of the orthography or chirography, that we have to deal.

"But if I dare tell you, you'd put all the prisoners in irons before the night got dark, and there may be bullets underneath the tin. Your boy, Bob."

When perfectly satisfied with the epistle, Bob began to wonder how he could give it to Tempest without the act being seen.

After considerable head scratching, he put the paper on Tempest's plate, the dinner table being set.

Then he stood outside the cabin to watch whether the letter reached its proper destination.