died for him. He 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
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