He was a handsome man, young--that is, he had not reached his fortieth year--straight as an arrow, with firmness imprinted on every feature. He could not have lived on a slow boat. He would have gone crazy. Had he been on a man-of-war crawling along at two knots an hour, he would most likely have deserted. On the _Lively Bee_ he was the most active man. He owned the vessel, and was proud of it. When there was a rumor of war, he hurried to Washington and applied for a _lettre de marque_. For those of our readers who do not understand the expression, we explain that a letter of marque gave permission to the owner of a private vessel to make war on another nation. Without this letter of authority, such war would be piracy. All nations, at the time of the war of 1812, issued letters of marque, and recognized the privateers as belligerents, often however ignoring the authority in the case of prisoners, and hanging the officers as pirates. Captain Vernon had two objects to serve in his war on the English. He hated the British, and he wanted to enrich himself by prize money. The _Lively Bee_ was outside Sandy Hook, and was making nearly five knots an hour. Every man on board had to work at racehorse speed, for the captain was always on the alert. Everything and everybody about him must be the fastest and best possible. Although the war ships had started almost as soon as the privateer, they were nowhere in sight. "Sail ho!" The alarm was given by Scarron. "Whereaway?" "I see it, captain," said Tempest, pointing to a white speck on the horizon. The captain took the glass and looked long and earnestly in the direction. "She is in cruising canvas only. Most probably a merchantman," he said, as he handed the glass to Tempest. "No, captain, she is a war ship, and British at that." "Think so?" "I'll bet my last dollar she's British, but she's too big for us to tackle." Tempest paced the deck uneasily. Here was a British war ship almost within fighting distance, and she was to be allowed to escape. "Captain, a word with you." "What is it, Tempest?" "Have you a long-range gun on board?" "A thirty-four pounder. Why?" "Because I would like to draw closer to that Britisher and give her a shot." "Is not that a dangerous game?" "It is a risk. I think she only carries light-weight guns, perhaps twelve-pounders." "Why do you think so?" "Instinct. But apart from that feeling, you will find she is a French-rigged frigate, and they seldom carry anything above a twelve-pounder." "You can take the risk if you like, Tempest." "May I?" "Yes, but you will be responsible for the _Lively Bee_." It was a terrible responsibility for the young man to take, but there was something about him which inspired confidence, and Captain Vernon wanted to see of what mettle the man was made. Orders were given, and the little schooner sailed direct for the big wars-man. "Captain, we are within gunshot distance. What shall we do?"