The Real America in Romance, Volume 10 | Page 9

preserved
perfect discipline and respect through love rather than fear, for he was
never known to be harsh with any of his crew.
No one knew why the captain had never married. His first mate, who
had sailed under him four years, had never dared broach him on the
subject of matrimony. There was a story--a mere rumor--perhaps
without the slightest foundation, of Felix Lane, when a poor sailor boy,
loving the daughter of an English merchant at Portsmouth, England.
The mate got the story from a gossipy old English sailor, who claimed
to know all about it, but whose fondness for spinning yarns brought

discredit on his veracity. According to the old sailor's account, the fair
English maid's name was Mary. Her father was one of the wealthiest
merchants in the city; and one day when Lane was only nineteen he met
Mary. Her beauty captivated him and inspired him to a nobler life.
Mary loved the young sailor; but it was the old story of the penniless
lover and cruel parent. The sailor was forcibly expelled from the house
and sailed to America, with a heart full of revenge and ambition.
He arrived just after the battle of Lexington, and soon shipped aboard a
privateer. Again it was the old story of a rash lover laughing at death,
seeking the grim monster who seemed to avoid him. His ship was so
successful, that in a short time each of the crew was rich from prize
money. Four years and a half of war found Felix Lane commander of
the most daring privateer on the ocean. He was already wealthy and
continued by fresh prizes to add to his immense fortune. The merchant
marine of Great Britain dreaded his ship, the Sea Rover, more than the
whole American navy. Lane was one of the most expert seamen on the
ocean, and might have had a high office in the regular navy, had he not
found this semi-piratical business more lucrative.
One day his vessel sighted a large merchantman, off the coast of Spain,
and engaged it in a terrible conflict. The merchantman carried twice as
many people and heavier guns than the Sea Rover; but by the skilful
management of his ship Captain Lane continued to rake her fore and aft
until she was forced to strike her colors. When the conqueror went
aboard, he found the splintered deck a scene of horror. Cordage,
shrouds, broken spars and dead and dying men strewed the deck. Near
the gangway was a middle-aged man holding in his arms a girl mortally
wounded in the conflict. He recognized her in a moment, and the scene
which followed tried all the powers of the old yarn-spinner's descriptive
faculties. He held her in his arms and wept and prayed until her life was
extinct. It was said that she recognized him and that she died with a
sweet smile on her face, pointing upward to a place of reunion. The
father, who had survived the conflict, was released, and Captain Felix
continued his career a sadder and better man.
Whether this story was true or not, no one can at this day tell, for Jack

tars are proverbial yarn-spinners, and seek more after romance than
truth. One thing is quite certain, though, Captain Lane was still a
bachelor, and had resisted all the advances of beautiful women, until no
one doubted that he would end his days a bachelor.
On this bright June morning a sail was descried S.S.E., and there
immediately sprang up a little conversation between master and mate as
to the probable character of the ship.
"Perchance, captain, it's a British cruiser," suggested the mate.
"If it should be, we have no fears."
"No, for the Ocean Star can show a pair of clean heels to anything
afloat. These British have a habit of searching all vessels they can
capture and impressing seamen."
"It's ugly business."
"It will breed another storm."
"I don't think America will long submit."
At this, the mate, whose temper was as fiery as his red hair, vowed:
"If they should board a ship of mine, I would give 'em lead and steel,
until they would not care to search or impress any one."
"They have no such right," the captain answered, and his face grew
very stern.
The vessel, whatever she was, did not cross their path, however, and in
a few hours disappeared around some jutting headlands.
They had only left Rio the day before, and had very light winds. The
land breeze lasted long enough to bring them by Santa Cruz, and their
ship drifted along all day between Raza and the main. Toward night the
sea-breeze came in fresh from the eastward, and they made four-hour
tacks, intending to keep the northern shore quite close