The
master-captain Parson was a thorough seaman with a heart as big as
an ox.
British cruisers were a greater bugbear to American vessels than
pirates, and Captain Parson kept a constant lookout for them.
On the afternoon of an Autumnal day, when he found himself becalmed off
a small island not down on the chart, the skipper felt no little
uneasiness. He paced his deck impatiently, occasionally turning his eye
to every quarter, surveying the horizon for some sign of a gale of wind.
"Mr. Brown, Mr. Brown," he called to his mate.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Mr. Brown, hurrying forward.
"Mr. Brown, look across that point of land sou-west the island--get your
glass."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The mate ran and got his glass. He came back to the captain and leveled
it in the direction indicated by the captain.
"Do you see anything?"
"I do, sir."
"What is it?"
"I see the top gallant of a ship."
"I thought I was not mistaken. Can you make out her colors?"
"I will go aloft, captain, and see."
The mate ascended to the foretop cross-tree, and took a long survey of
the stranger. When he descended the captain asked:
"What is she?"
"An English frigate."
"I knew it!" growled the captain. "I felt it in my bones. We shall have
the rascals overhauling us anon. Egad, I wish we had an armed crew and
heavy guns--I would not wait for congress to declare war.
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