"Boys," he began, "boys, I want to be your captain. I don't want to giveup the Fairport Guard. We have had many a good time together, and I loveyou all; yes, every one. Our marching and drilling has hitherto beenplay, but now we ought to be in earnest. We should prepare to be reallya guard to our native town. At any moment the British may land on ourshores, and threaten the lives of those who are dearest to us. We mustbe able to protect our mothers and sisters if the evil day comes. Wemust learn the use of firearms. This musket did duty at Bunker Hill.Every young patriot here must learn to use it well. In due time we musteach have our musket, and make it carry true, if need be, to the heartof the enemy. But, boys, if we are to be real defenders of our nativeland, we must be worthy of such an honor. I am willing, I want to beyour captain; but hear the rules I propose for our company: We are to bea temperance band; no drop of the cup that intoxicates must pass ourlips. No profane word must sully our tongues. The name of the God of ourfathers must be honored among us. Any member of this company who shallbe found guilty of a lie, a theft, or bullying the weak anddefenceless, shall be cast out by common vote. We will strive to be acredit to our beloved home--true American citizens, who may dare to askGod to bless them in all their undertakings and prosper all they do.Boys, do you agree to these regulations? If so, I shall rejoice to beyour captain. If not, I must sadly bid adieu to the Fairport Guard, andwith this time-honored musket in my hand, stand alone on the thresholdof my home in the hour of danger, trusting in God and in the strength ofthis single right-arm."
As Blair concluded, he grounded his musket, and stood silently awaitingthe reply of his companions.
There was a moment of hesitation; then one of the older boys, thefirst-lieutenant, stepped forward and silently placed himself at theside of his young commander. In true martial style the whole companyfollowed, arraying themselves around their leader.
"We agree! We agree! We agree to every thing!" shouted one and all.
"May God help us to keep to our compact," said Blair. Then, after ashort pause, he added, "Let me propose to you a new member for ourcompany--my friend Hal Hutchings, who, born on English soil, is yet atrue American at heart. Let all in favor of his admission say Aye."
Hal had been striving to give himself a military air by appearing in hisred flannel shirt and trousers, while Old Jock's red night-cap wasperched above the yellow curls of the boy. As his name was mentioned, heraised to his shoulder a borrowed crutch which served him for a musket,as if to signify his readiness for martial duty.
"The English boy! Admit the English boy!" said several voices; but ahearty "Aye, aye" from two or three prominent members of the companydecided the question in Hal's favor, and he was admitted at once bygeneral consent.
Forming now in regular ranks, the Fairport Guard went through theirusual drill, and then set off in a creditable march, to let the citizenshave a view of their doughty defenders.
CHAPTER VI.
A PILOT.
It is strange that the moon generally has all the blame for fickleness,when the sun quite as often hides his face without sufficient warning.The Fairport Guard had hardly made the circuit of the town, before thelate smiling sky was overcast by dark hurrying clouds, and theweatherwise began to predict a coming storm, which was to be "no joke onsea or land."
Luckless members of the Fairport Guard who had not had the precaution totie on their head-gear, might be seen breaking rank and runningindecorously in various directions in pursuit of hat or cap, while theskirts of the captain's time-honored coat flapped in the wind, like thesignal of a ship in distress.
It was in the endeavor to complete their usual tour, by passing alongthe wharf, that this military body was subjected to this attack from oldBoreas. Worse confusion, however, soon broke up all order among them. Agroup of men on the wharf had been for some time looking at a shipnearing the harbor. They could not make her out, they said. She was astranger in those waters, and yet bore the American flag. She seemed aman-of-war, and was evidently signalling for a pilot.
Fairport harbor, smooth and safe as it was, cradled among theoverhanging cliffs, had a guard at its entrance which no stranger mightdefy. Its deep narrow channel went winding among hidden rocks, and woebetide the keel that ventured a dozen yards from its appointed path.
For thirty years Joe Robertson had been the pilot of Fairport, and wasas well known to the frequenters of that harbor as was the tall spirewhich was the pride of the town. The sound of war had, however, rousedwithin him the spirit of his father of Revolutionary memory. He declaredhe would not have it said that Joe Robertson was content to playdoor-keeper to the harbor of Fairport, while brave men were sheddingtheir blood for the country, as dear to him as to them. Joe's enthusiasmwas contagious. It spread through all Fairport, and there was hardly aman who could bear arms on sea or land who was not off at his country'sbidding.
Old Jock, who had had one leg bitten off by a shark, men who had beencrippled by a fall from mainmast or yard, and sickly sailors, worn outby the fevers of southern ports, were left at home to keep company withthe few true landsmen, the shopmen of the town.
Old Jock had been content to serve as pilot since the departure of Joe,and well he knew the channel; but he seemed to have grown lazy, orparticularly careful of himself, since Hal had come under his roof. Nowhe positively refused to go to the vessel in the offing. He plainlyexpressed his doubts as to what kind of a craft she was, and moreoverdeclared that such a squall as was coming up was "not to be risked byany man in his senses, even if that old ship went to the bottom withevery soul in her."
Blair listened intently to this conversation. Too many times had he beento and fro with his father in his pilot's duty not to know well thedangerous channel. Every crook and turn in it was as familiar to him asthe windings of the little path in his mother's flower-garden. The boystood erect with growing determination as the speakers went on.
"She makes for the shore. She'll surely run on the rocks if a pilotdon't go to her. If Joe Robertson were only here. What business had aman of his age going off to the war, instead of staying to look afterthe harbor of his own town?"
"He has left his son to take his place," said Blair quickly. "I know thechannel. I am not afraid. I will just speak to my mother, and then I'moff."
In a few hurried words the son told his design to the mother whounderstood him so well. "May I go?" he added; "I know you will notrefuse."
The mother's eyes filled with tears as she spoke. "I will not keep you,my noble boy. God bless and watch over you. The true Christian, like hisMaster, takes his life in his hand, and goes forth at the call of duty.The true patriot will risk all for his dear countrymen. Go. My prayersshall be around you like a guard."
When Blair returned to the wharf it was with his mother at his side. Thelittle pilot-boat had been made ready. As he jumped into it, anotherfigure quickly followed him. It was Hal Hutchings. "I must go with you,"he said with determination. "I can manage a boat. I sha'n't be in theway. I couldn't stand it to wait on the shore. May-be two of us will beneeded."
Blair gave Hal one cordial grasp of the hand, then hoisted his bit of asail, and soon over the wild waves the two boys took their coursetogether.
"God help that Blair Robertson. He has the making of the right kind of aman in him," exclaimed a bystander.
"He's _our captain_, Blair is," said one of the youngest members of theFairport Guard.
"Who would have thought of Hal's making such a venture?" said Old Jock."He's a little skeary about water yet. But I believe he'd die for BlairRobertson. Whatever takes hold of that Hal Hutchings takes him strong."
The mother's eye followed the little boat as it went dancing over thewaves, but her heart was uplifted in silent prayer.
CHAPTER VII.
NO!
The pilot-boat was nearing the strange vessel, when Blair suddenlyexclaimed, "I see British uniforms on board. We have been tricked bythat flag falsely displayed. It is an English man-of-war. Put about.We'll pilot no such vessel into Fairpo
rt."
Quick as thought the little boat had turned its head, and was makingtowards the shore. The movement was not unperceived on board theman-of-war, and its cause was at once understood. A boat, manned by adozen strong rowers, had been made ready for such an emergency. Theywere quickly in pursuit of the retreating pilot. They gained rapidlyupon the boys, and were soon alongside, commanding Blair to surrender,while half a dozen muskets were aimed at the brave lads.
"Fire! Do your worst! I am not afraid to die!" sprang to the lips ofBlair Robertson; but he thought of his mother, and was silent. He had noright so to throw away the life of her only son.
"Surrender, or we shall fire," was again repeated.
"A couple of unarmed boys, decoyed within your reach, would be a worthymark for your treacherous British muskets," said Blair boldly. "I woulddare you to fire, but there are those at home who would miss us toomuch. Do what you will with us; we are your prisoners."
The British tars handled their captives without ceremony, and hurriedthem at once on board the man-of-war and presented them before itsimpatient commander.
Not a little surprised at the grotesque appearance of the prisoners, heexclaimed in astonishment, "Who and what are you?"
"I am a Yankee boy, the captain of the Fairport Guard," said Blairfrankly. "We had been parading, when your signal for a pilot called metoo suddenly away for me to have time to lay aside this dress, _thiscoat_ which my grandfather wore at _Bunker Hill_."
A strong emphasis was laid on the last word of the sentence.
"You young rascal!" exclaimed the commander. "And who is this Tom-foolof a companion?"
"It is my friend, and one of our company. He would not see me risking mylife on the water while he stood on the shore. Would that we had manysuch 'Tom-fools,' with brave, strong hearts like his."
As Blair spoke, he took off his official cap and left his noble younghead bare. With another movement the precious coat was thrown over hisarm, and the stripling stood in his school-boy dress before the Englishcommander, who exclaimed, "A pretty pilot, you. Who sent you on this maderrand?"
"My father has been for thirty years the pilot of Fairport. He is nowabsent fighting for his country against her oppressors. I know thechannel well. No one of our few remaining men would venture his life insuch a sea for an unknown vessel, and so I came. I knew it would becertain death for you to try to enter that harbor without a pilot."
"Then do your duty, young malapert. There is no time to be lost. We'llrun up the British flag, and go into port under fair colors."
The commander gave the necessary orders to have the last suggestioncarried out, and the sailors were prompt to do his bidding.
Blair stood perfectly still, while a look of stern determination sat onhis young face. "I will never pilot enemies to the shores of our land.You can shoot me, but you cannot force me to act the traitor."
The boy spoke resolutely. The English commander eyed him for a moment,and then said quickly,
"Shooting is too good for you, young dare-devil. That is quick work,soon over. There are other means of bringing you to terms."
The commander held in his hand a thick pamphlet in which he had beenreading. He made it into a firm scroll, and placed it upon the edge ofthe railing near which he was standing. Then turning to one of thesailors, he said, "Here, let me see you cut that through with yourknife. Be quick."
The man drew the long knife from his belt, and with one sweeping strokesevered the thick scroll. One part went fluttering through the air anddropped in the angry waters, while the other was firmly held by thecommander.
"Put young master's right-hand in the same place, and we will see itfood for fishes. Or will he choose to do his duty, and keep his preciousfive fingers for future use?"
The words had hardly passed from the lips of the British officer, whenBlair laid his hand calmly on the railing, and exclaimed, "Now, Godhelping me, you may tear me limb from limb, and I will be true to mycountry and my home."
"It's no use. He'll keep his word. You can't force 'im," shouted HalHutchings, the tears coursing down his cheeks.
The wild winds swept through the rigging, and the storm came on withsudden violence.
This was no time for contention with such a spirit as Blair haddisplayed, and the captain at once gave orders to make for the open sea,where he might the more safely abide the approaching tempest. TheFairport channel had been strewn with too many wrecks to be venturedwithout a careful pilot, and of that the English captain had been fullywarned.
Blair and Hal were hastily thrust below, while rapid preparations weremade to meet the coming hour of danger.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE STORM.
The place in which Blair and his companion found themselves was a smallstrongly built closet, used as a "lock-up" for refractory sailors. Asingle bull's-eye admitted a mere glimmer of light for a while, but thatsoon died away in utter darkness as the night came rapidly on. It waswell for the boys that they knew something of ocean's rough rocking. Aland-lubber would have had all the miseries of sea-sickness added to thehorrors of that dreary dungeon.
A new exaltation of spirit had come over Blair. Difficulties and dangersseemed as nothing to him while in the path of duty. He feared neitherthe raging elements nor the power of angry enemies. He had the promisethat those who trust in God shall never be moved, and in this strongrefuge he was safe.
Not so with poor Hal. The dread of death had seized him, and absorbedall other thoughts. He could not but think of the horrors into which heshould be plunged if he suddenly found a watery grave. Prayer seemedimpossible for him, as in a kind of agonized waiting he met every plungeand reel of the storm-tossed ship.
Ah, the time of peril is not the best time to make one's peace with God.When heart and flesh fail, the soul shrinks in dismay before its comingdoom. Even the wild prayers for deliverance which may burst from theaffrighted soul, what will they avail at the judgment? Are they thecries of the contrite heart mourning for its sins against a holy,loving, and beneficent heavenly Father? Are they not rather but as theshrieks of the criminal who sees no escape from his merited retribution?Alas for him who postpones his day of repentance till face to face withthe king of terrors. It is he only who is strong in his great Delivererwho can see that icy beckoning hand, and amid the shrinking of humannature find himself calm in the strength which only God supplies. If theagonies or the stupor of the sick-bed unfit the soul to seek peace withGod in the dying hour, even so does the anguish of such fear as nowbowed poor Hal to the earth.
As the English lad crouched in his terror, Blair knelt at his side andprayed earnestly for him to that God who seemed to the young Christianbut the more surely at hand, for the tokens of his power that made thatmighty ship quiver like a leaf in the autumn wind.
Worn out with the excess of his own strong emotion, Hal at length sankinto a deep slumber, and rolled and tossed with the vessel like alifeless thing. Blair feared the poor boy had actually died of terror;but he soon convinced himself that there was yet motion in that heartwhich had throbbed so truly for him.
There was no sleep for Blair during that long wild night. In theintensity of his excitement, his thoughts flew through his mind with avividness and a swiftness that made him almost feel that he was tastinga new and higher kind of existence. Spiritual things were as real to himas his own identity, and the God in whom he trusted seemed at his sideas a familiar friend. Of his mother too he could think without a tear.He was sure that if left childless, she would be comforted and sustainedand gently led along her lonely pathway. Had he not been fulfilling heroft-repeated counsel, to fear nothing but sin? Had he not vindicatedthat love of his native land, which she had taught him should be next tohis allegiance to God? She might never know his fate. Yet she wouldmourn for him as for one who died in his effort to fulfil the duties ofhis absent father, and risked his own life to save the human freight ofa ship from wreck and sure destruction.
Daylight brought but a feeble glimmer to Blair's dark pris
on-house, yethe welcomed it as the assurance of dawn--dawn which is ever welcome tothe watcher, though it may usher in a day of double danger.
CHAPTER IX.
A REWARD.
Hal was still in the deep sleep into which he had fallen, when the boltsof their place of confinement were withdrawn. Blair's clear bright eyeslooked full in the face of the English commander, who now stood beforehim.
"Give me your hand, my boy," said the captain. "I can respect braverywherever I find it. I honor you for your determined courage. Tell me,who taught you so to love your country?"
Blair's hand still hung at his side as he answered, "My mother, sir; thebest of mothers. She would rather have me die in the right cause, thanlive a traitor."
"You will not give me your hand? Perhaps I do not deserve it; but itwas not cruelty which prompted me to act as I did last evening. I feltour danger, and scrupled not to use any means which should bring you toterms. Your constancy triumphed. I knew that no threats could force sucha spirit. You shall not lose your reward, in the knowledge of theservice you have done your home and your kindred. My orders were to getinto the harbor of Fairport, to take possession of the naval storesthere belonging to privateersmen, and then to reduce the town to ashes."
For the first time Blair's eyes filled with tears, and his chest swelledwith strong emotion as he exclaimed, "Thank God, I have been able to beuseful to my country and my home. This will fill my mother's heart withjoy. To her I owe all in me that is worthy of praise."
"I believe I can trust you, my lad," said the captain. "I would notwillingly have my name go out as one who would maim and torture a bravelad. My desperation is my excuse for my expedient of last evening. Iwant you to promise to keep that scene a secret. You may perchance someday have your own sins to cover. I have been reckoned brave andhonorable, and I would not have my fair name tarnished. Will youpromise?"