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.