"Unhand me! I am your prisoner, but I am a woman. Let me die, for death would be better than a life such as he proposes." "Don't be stupid, Miss Decatur, the man I sent for is John Tempest----" "It is false!" But as she uttered the words Tempest entered the cabin. "Bertha!" "John! What does it all mean?" Tempest had heard the last words uttered by Bertha, and he was trembling violently. "Do you hate me so much?" he asked. "Hate you? No, I spoke of Captain Carter----" "Of this ship?" "Yes." "What was he to you?" "How can you ask? Do you not know that he visited my home and professed to love me--that when I told him I was engaged to another he declared I should never marry any one but himself? My brother ordered him to leave the house, and then, late that night, two men overtook me as I was returning home; they gagged me and carried me to a boat, from which I was taken to this ship, which was in the offing." "I thank Heaven I killed that captain! My friend, here, is captain of the _Lively Bee_, privateer, and he has captured this vessel----" "No, no, Tempest. I did nothing of the kind. You made the capture, for you led the assault, and you ran up the Stars and Stripes." "Let me see it," said Bertha, still almost doubting. She walked up the companionway and stood on the deck, the first time in nearly a month. When her eyes looked upward and saw the American flag proudly floating from the mast, she fell on her knees, and in a loud voice thanked Heaven for her deliverance. But her strength was overtaxed, and she fell back on the deck in a fainting condition. Tenderly Tempest carried her below and placed her on the cabin lounge. How he wished that there had been another woman on board to attend to her wants; but wishes would not bring one, and so he had to enact the _rôle_ of nurse. Mr. Scarron found three guns on board the _Caroline_, but very little ammunition. "Ask Captain Vernon to give you a few charges," said Tempest, "for we may have to defend ourselves before we reach port. And tell Captain Vernon that I shall not desert the _Caroline_ while there is the least chance of saving her." The day wore on apace, and all had good hopes that by the morrow's morn an American port would be entered. But the sun was just setting, its golden rays were dancing on the green waters of the Atlantic, when Mr. Scarron rushed unceremoniously into the cabin where Tempest sat holding Bertha's hand in his own, and praying for her return to consciousness. "A sail! A strange sail, sir, and I believe she flies the British flag. If so, she is armed. Come on deck, Mr. Tempest, for, blow me, but I think we are in for a fight!" The words fell so fast from Mr. Scarron's lips that he was scarcely distinct, but Tempest's face paled, not with fear for himself, but a precious life was now at stake, and he feared everything for her sake. Scarron reached the deck in a couple of bounds, and again shouted: