the best-looking sailors of her crew. Hardly a week passed
without the arrival of a ship at New York, New London, or any of the
shipping towns of New England, bringing some such tale. The
merchant-vessel, skimming lightly over the ocean, at peace with all
the world, and with nothing to fear save the terrors of the storms,
against which the sturdy mariners knew so well how to guard, would be
suddenly halted by a shot from a frigate of a nation with whom the
United States had no quarrel. A hail from the frigate told the
American to come up into the wind, while a boat was sent aboard. Soon
a long-boat filled with man-o'-war's men, and with a beardless young
midshipman in the stern-sheets, came dancing over the water; and in a
minute or two a lieutenant, the middy, and a few sailors clambered
aboard the wondering merchantman. There was small ceremony about the
proceedings then.

"Muster your men aft," quoth the middy peremptorily; "and you'd better
be quick about it, too."

Perhaps the American captain protested,--they generally did,--and
talked about the peace between the nations, and the protection of his
flag; but his talk was usually of little avail.

"Get those man aft, and be quick about it," orders the British
officer. "You've got deserters from his Majesty's service in your
crew; and I'll have them. Do you want me to send the boat back for the
marines?"

The American crew came aft unwillingly, grumbling, and cursing his
Majesty's service under their breath, and formed a line before the
boarding officer. That worthy whispered a minute or two with the
boatswain and sailors who came aboard with him, and then, pointing out
one man, boldly claimed him as a British subject. American captains
declared that the man so chosen was generally the most ship-shape
sailor aboard; and indeed it seemed but natural that the English, in
filling out their crew, should choose the best. Sometimes the American
captain went on board the British ship, to protest against so summary
a draft upon his crew. In such a case he was usually received with
courtesy by the commander, but never did he regain his kidnapped
sailors. The commander trusted in every thing to his first lieutenant,
who boarded the merchantman; and that officer was thus made, in the
words of an English journalist, "at once accuser, witness, judge, and
captor."

The men thus pressed were expected to serve with all the zeal and
bravery of regularly enlisted sailors. The