The lieutenant passed down the line, scrutinizing the protection papers and asking searching questions. I was the last one, and as my turn came, I began to turn cold with dread, for, fearing that I would be kept from shipping, I had neglected to get a protection paper. Putting on as bold a front as I could muster, I looked up at the lieutenant. He had friendly blue eyes--he was not at all like the dreadful impressment officer of my imagination. "Please sir," I said, "I shipped without taking the trouble to get a protection. I'm an American to the backbone, though. I was born in Baltimore and my father was killed fighting the British during the war of Independence. He was on the _Hyder Ally_ when she captured the English ship, the _General Monk_. I don't want you to take me because I have a brother who is a prisoner in Algiers, and I expect to join the new American navy and go to fight for his release!" He laughed. "If we robbed you of a father, I think it's due you to be allowed to go your own way. I should say that your brother requires your aid more than we do, so I'll take your word for it that you're a Yankee. Better not go to sea again without a protection paper. I happen to be a particularly tender-hearted officer." He went down the side. Samuel Childs gave me a slap on the back that took my breath away. "Youngster," he said, "that's the first time I've seen a British officer pass by an American without papers. Blast them, if they would give their men better pay and stop flogging them through the fleet for offences hardly worth one lash, they wouldn't have to be taking us to fill the places of their deserters!" It was a grand though often terrifying sight to see the ship in a storm flying beneath leaden clouds. With the main topsail and fore topmast staysail close reefed; with the masts tipping over as if they were going to plunge their tops into the sea; with spray showering upon us; with mountainous waves following us as if they would topple their full weight over our stern; it was a sight to make one both marvel and tremble. In such a storm we lost James Murray, an ordinary seamen, well-liked by all. We were in a heavy sea. The clouds were so low that they enveloped our mastheads. Tremendous waves beat against our bow, so that our plunging stem was like a knife cutting a way through them. All hands were called to shorten sail as the wind increased into a gale. The men who were light of weight went out along the yardarms, while the heavier men remained closer to the mast. The upper mizzen topsail was being furled when a sudden gust of wind blew the sail out of their grasp.