"I forgive you from my heart. I promise," said Blair, frankly extendinghis hand.
"Such a mother as yours can be trusted," said the English commander,warmly grasping the offered hand. "She must know how her son did herhonor in his hour of danger. Tell her the story, but let her keep it toherself. The true patriot, my boy, is willing to suffer for his country,though he win no glory from his sufferings. Are you equal to such asacrifice?"
"I own I should like to be known as one who had done something for hisnative land," said Blair; "but it will do me good, and make me the purerpatriot, I trust, to have only my mother's praise, if we ever meetagain."
"_You_ shall be released at the earliest opportunity; but this yourcompanion must stay with us. I wish he was of the stuff that you are. Wewould make a British tar of him, who would do us honor. His tongue tellsthe story of his birth, even if we could doubt the witness of his Saxoneyes and hair."
"He chose to be an American. He worked his way to a home with us, and tous he ought to belong," said Blair boldly.
"He is English, unnaturalized of course, as he is under age. He belongsto us by all law. I wish he were a better prey," said the captain.
"You do Hal Hutchings injustice. A truer heart never throbbed. Timid ashe is, he ventured with me in the boat because he would not see me goalone. Let him once love his duty as he loves me, and there will be nopost of danger from which he will shrink."
Blair's eyes flashed and his cheek glowed as he spoke.
"He shall be kindly cared for. We will make the best of what is in him.You are both free to go your way on board the ship. There is no chanceof escape where we now are. You will see how our good vessel hassuffered by the storm. Yet she weathered it bravely. You shall have foodhere presently, and then you are at large, prisoners on parole."
With these words the captain took his leave.
Blair's first impulse, when left alone, was to throw himself on hisknees beside his sleeping companion. From the depths of his heart hethanked God for enabling him to be firm to his duty; and earnestly heprayed that he might be made humble in the midst of the honor which hadbeen allowed him. For his dear mother too rose a fervent prayer that shemight be kept in the hollow of her Maker's hand during the absence ofher son, whom she had striven to train as a Christian patriot, whosewatchwords are ever, "God and my native land."
CHAPTER X.
A NEW DECK.
The British vessel had indeed suffered much damage in the fearful storm.The crashing and wrenching that had so overwhelmed poor Hal with terror,had been the destruction of mast and yard and bulwark. Yet, thoughsorely dismantled, the good ship was able to keep bravely on her way.
She had been several days heading for the distant shores of England,alone on the wide ocean, which like a sulky child bore the marks of itslate outburst of passion long after the sky above was all smiles andsunshine.
The appearance of three sails along the far horizon caught the captain'swary eye. That they were Americans he did not doubt--privateers,against which singly he could have won an easy victory; but disabled ashis vessel now was, he could not dare to cope with such a trio.
They gained rapidly upon him. His resolution was taken at once. He wrotea few lines hastily, sealed them, and summoned Blair to his side. "Myboy," he said, "I want to send you on a dangerous mission. Dare youtrust yourself in your boat upon the sea, chafing as it still is fromthe late storm? I want a messenger to send to yonder craft so swiftlynearing us. Dare you go? Your courage shall set you free."
"I will go. God will watch over me, and bring me safe to my mother,"said Blair promptly.
A few words of affectionate parting with Hal, and then Blair was again afree boy, the sky above and the friendly waters below. Friendly theyseemed to him as he sped over the waves towards the flag of his nativeland. He did not look behind him to see that the Stars and Stripes werewaving above the British vessel, run up when she was called on to showher colors. He did not note the fact that the deck on which he hadlately stood was fast passing from sight while he hasted on his errand.
Two of the privateers kept up their chase of the suspicious craft, whilethe other hove to, to receive the message which had been signalized asin the hands of the boy in the fast approaching boat.
Blair stepped freely and gladly when he was once more among his own dearcountrymen, and it was with a beaming face that he presented his sealednote to the captain of the "Molly."
The note was as follows: "We send you herewith an American boy, bychance our prisoner. We trust that the gaining of such an addition toyour crew will make amends for the loss of the British property whichthis delay gives us a chance to carry off in safety."
The captain of the Molly read these few words at a glance; then stampinghis foot, he exclaimed, "You young villain! American or no American, youshall suffer for this sneaking trick. We'll send you back again out ofthe mouth of our guns, or half-way at least. It is not worth our whileto follow that miserable cheat. Those good ships will take him beforemany hours are over. Yankees know a British hull if American colors areflying over her."
Blair looked with astonishment where, far over the waters, the Britishman-of-war was fading from sight.
"It is a shabby trick, but I was no party to it," he exclaimed. "Iwould sooner lose my right hand than lift one finger against mycountrymen. I am an American. I am the son of old Joe Robertson, thepilot of Fairport. Perhaps you know him. If you do, you will be surethat one of his blood would never do dishonor to the Stars and Stripes."
Captain Knox of the privateer Molly had never heard of Joe Robertson;but his knowledge of the world made him see truth and innocence in theface of the boy. Blair's words came too quickly, and his voice waspitched too high for English birth, and that the blunt captain marked atonce.
"No matter who you are or where you came from, if you are all right asto the Stars and Stripes," said Captain Knox. "We don't ask too manyquestions here as to what folks have been before they come aboard theMolly. If you can obey orders and handle a rope, this is the place foryou to make your fortune. Go aft, and Derry Duck our first-mate willfind something for you to do in short order. He knows how to take thestiffness out of a fellow's bones."
Thus dismissed, Blair mingled among the sailors at the other end of thevessel, by no means a welcome guest. Muttered curses fell on his ears,and more than one voice was heard to say, "He ought to be sunk fortyfathoms in salt water, with a hundred weight of lead at his heels."
CHAPTER XI.
"MUM."
Captain Knox did not set off in pursuit of the British vessel from whichBlair had so unexpectedly escaped. Our young sailor soon learned thatthe "Molly" was on the look-out for richer prey, in the shape of an EastIndiaman, whose costly cargo was expected to prove a gold mine forcaptain and crew.
The love of adventure and the lust for gold seemed uppermost in theminds of Blair's new companions. The Fairport boy was not long indiscovering that there was about as little Christian patriotism on boardthe Molly, as there is verdure in Sahara. In the freedom of themess-table, the late achievements of the crew were the occasion of manya "yarn," and of many a fierce discussion as to who had been the boldestand most reckless in the excitement of attack and victory. It was plainthat the crew of the Molly were little better than a den of thieves,their whole thought being of plunder, their whole ambition the winningof gold. Blair blushed for the honor of his country, to find such menamong her avowed defenders. Oaths and obscenity made even more hatefulthe rough narratives in which each strove to prove himself more hardenedand abandoned than the last speaker. Blair's soul recoiled with horrorfrom the taint of such companionship; yet for him there was no escape.Among these coarse rovers he was forced to eat and sleep, to live andlabor, while many weeks went by.
The youngest on board, he was at the beck and call of these rough men,who made his body as weary of doing their bidding as his soul of theirwords of wickedness. A deep, hearty hatred of the crew of the Molly tookpossession of Blair Robertson. He wonde
red that a benevolent Providenceshould have placed a Christian boy in the midst of the pollution of suchassociates, and subject to the martyrdom of hearing their daily talk. Acold and haughty silence was Blair's defence against their scolding andtheir railing. With a feeling of conscious superiority he moved amongthem, desiring their praise even less than their persecution.
The names of the crew of the Molly were as unattractive as theirappearance and manners. These soubriquets spoke not of pious parents whohad given their children to God, with a Christian name which theytrusted would be registered in heaven. They told rather of lawlesslives, and a past which must be buried in oblivion or acknowledged withshame and perhaps fear. "Fighting-cock," "Torpedo," "Brimstone," and"the Slasher," were among the leaders who dubbed Blair with the title of"Mum," and so saluted him on all occasions. Blair had a veryconsiderable sense of his own dignity, and was by no means pleased withthis style of address. Yet he showed his resentment by increasedtaciturnity rather than by words. Captain Knox and Derry Duck soon foundout that Blair Robertson was no useless addition to the crew, andpromptly gave him his share in the watch and in other duties which hisstrength would permit.
The hours of the watch were to Blair the most agreeable he now enjoyed.In the silent night, with the sea below and the sentinel stars overhead,he could commune with God, undisturbed by the wickedness of man.
Blair had not been a day on board the Molly, when Torpedo, a fiery youngSpaniard, spied him reading his pocket-Testament in a quiet part of theship. The book was snatched away and flung triumphantly into the water,while Torpedo exclaimed in bad English that Blair should follow it if hetried to force any of his canting notions on the free crew of theprivateer. Well was it for Blair that his mind was stored with chapterafter chapter of the precious volume, which would otherwise have been tohim now a sealed book. It surprised him to see how much of theScriptures he could by a strong effort recall, and most consoling andcheering to him were those words of peace and power.
In one of these lonely watches, Blair's thoughts turned to his presentcompanions with his usual loathing. Suddenly there came to him theimage of these rough bad men in their days of babyhood, ere yet thisevil world had found its full response in the evil within their poorhuman hearts. He could fancy the loving eye of God on those little ones,following them along their dreary pathway, and grieving as thicker grewthe crust of sin over all that had been pure and childlike, and more andmore dark their coming doom. Blair realized for the first time the loveof God, the pure and holy God, for those wicked transgressors of hislaw. "Yes," he thought, "it was while we were yet sinners Christ diedfor us. He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.Hateful as must have been to Him the atmosphere of guilt and degradationin this lower world, he left his Father's throne and came to seek and tosave that which was lost." Ah, how unlike the ministry of the Son ofman had been Blair's proud, self-exalting, unloving demeanor. Perhapsmercy for those poor abandoned men had sent a Christian boy to dwellamong them and show forth the image of his Master. With deep shame Blairsaw how unchristian had been his thoughts and acts towards hisuncongenial associates. Had he not cherished the very spirit of thePharisee, "Stand by thyself; I am holier than thou?" Blair thought ofhis proud and hasty temper and of the many sins of his boyhood, andmeekly owned that but for the loving hand of God which had hedged himround against temptation, and planted him in the garden of the Lord, hemight have been even worse than these wild rovers of the sea. Earnestlyhe prayed that he might so live and love on board the Molly, that atleast a faint image might be given of the great Example, who enduredthe contradiction of sinners, and for their sakes was willing to suffereven unto death.
Shame and indignation that such men should profess to be defenders ofthe American flag had hitherto been a chill to the patriotism of BlairRobertson. Now the thought struck him, that if he could but win one ofthese hardy sailors to be a Christian servant of his country, an honorto the flag under which he sailed, not in vain would a young patriothave endured the trials and temptations of the "Molly." "But," thoughtBlair, "what am I, single-handed, against so many? How can I hope tobring a blessing by the prayers of my one heart, be it ever so devoted?"He remembered that the prayer of the patriot Moses saved the hosts ofthe children of Israel from utter destruction at the hand of theiroffended God. At the prayer of Paul, the Ruler of the seas gave him notonly his own life, but the lives of all that were with him in the ship."I cannot," he said to himself, "hope to prevail like these saints ofold, at least not for my own sake; but the name of Jesus isall-powerful. I will plead it for the poor wanderers about me, and Godwill in due time, I trust, prosper and bless my efforts."
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST EFFORT.
"I've broken my jack-knife," said the yellow-headed, yellow-faced tarwho rejoiced in the nickname of Brimstone. The speech was accompanied byan oath that chilled the very soul of Blair Robertson; but it was themorning after the watch which had so changed his views towards his wildassociates, and he at once seized the opportunity to begin his new lineof conduct.
Blair had a large many-bladed Sheffield knife, which had been a presentto his father from an English captain. For several years it was hoardedas a special treasure, and then on a Christmas-day found its way intothe pocket of the only son. Blair knew the worth and temper of everyblade, and its fit and appointed use. Not a boy in Fairport had such aknife, as had been acknowledged on all hands. He had besides oftenthought of it as no bad weapon in case of an attack from any of thefighting crew of the Molly. "To stick a man," was in their estimation nouncommon occurrence, judging from the tales of their adventures, whichthey delighted to tell.
"Take my knife, wont you? It is a first-rate one," said Blair, handingover his treasure as freely as if the sacrifice had cost him no effort.
Brimstone opened his round cat-like eyes in surprise; and then droppingthe knife into the depths of his pocket, said, "Green, green! Youexpected to make a trade with me, I suppose. You can't come it. I neverswap."
"I meant to make you a present of it. You seemed so put out about yourknife's breaking," said Blair pleasantly. "A fellow does hate to breakhis knife. An English captain gave that to my father five years ago. Ithas six blades."
Brimstone took the knife out of his pocket and examined it slowly,opening blade after blade with the air of a connoisseur.
"I say, youngster, it's a first-rate article. You meant a swap, now; ownup. What did you mean to ask me for it, if I'd been in the humor?"
"There is only one thing I should like to ask of you," began Blair.
"Ha, ha! I knew you meant a swap," said Brimstone. "There's no harm inmaking a clean breast of it."
"I wanted to ask you not to swear those horrible oaths. I tremble lestGod, whose great name you blaspheme, should smite you dead with thosecurses on your lips," said Blair earnestly.
Brimstone had the long blade of the knife open. He gave an angry thrustat Blair, which the lad skilfully avoided, but without a shadow of fearin his fine face. "None of that talk," exclaimed Brimstone. "We say_what_ we please and _when_ we please on board the Molly. Mum's theright word for you. We want no parson just out of petticoats here."
Blair walked quietly away. His precious knife was gone, and he hadperhaps but irritated and made more unfriendly one of the very men whomhe so longed to influence for good. He had left himself without anydefensive weapon among men who reckoned human life as of trifling value.Yet Blair was not discouraged. He had made a beginning; and thoughroughly received, it was an effort put forth in a Christian spirit, andcould not be lost. With a petition in his heart for the rough sailor hehad just quitted, Blair went to a quiet part of the ship to write a fewlines to his mother. It seemed to him it would be a comfort to fancyhimself in communication with her, though the letter might never fallunder her dear eyes. Yet that was not impossible. There were letterswaiting already on board, until they could be sent by somehomeward-bound craft. The little mail-bag might find a timely and trustybearer.
; Blair had nearly filled the sheet before him, unconscious of anyobservers. The vessel lay becalmed, scarcely moving on the quiet waters,and the men had been stretched lazily about, or leisurely mending sails,or washing their clothing in true sailors' fashion. Drawn on byBrimstone's beckoning finger, a group had silently gathered round Blair,ready for any wild frolic at the boy's expense which their summonermight have in his unscrupulous brain.
Just as Blair put the signature to his letter, the paper was snatchedfrom his hand by some one from behind.
"Now hear, worshipful shipmates," said Brimstone, making as if he wouldread the letter aloud.
"You don't know your alphabet," said Derry Duck contemptuously. "I amthe scholard for you; but I choose to let the writer do his own reading.Here, Mum, let us have the benefit of your long-tailed letter in plainEnglish, stops put in all right."
Blair's eyes flashed for a moment, but the next he put out his hand forthe letter, and said pleasantly, "Do you really want to know how aYankee boy writes home to his mother? Well, then, I'll read every wordout, just as it is written."
]
The tones of Blair's voice were clear and firm as he read as follows:
"DEAR MOTHER--I always thought I loved you, but I never half knew what you were to me before. I think of you by day, and dream of you by night."