The Boy Patriot Part 7

Derry laughed a sorrowful, derisive laugh, and then said almost fiercely, "You don't know me, lad. It would chill your very blood to know what I've done, and where I've been. There are spots on me that nothing can wash out. I've grown into it, boy. It's my life. I'm hard and tough, soul and body. There's no making me over. I'm spoiled in the grain. I tell you it's too late. I a'n't a father for her to know. I can't be made into one. That a'n't what I came here to talk about. Will you write my letter, that's the question?"

"Certainly I will write for you in the way that seems to me the best.

But, Derry, 'there is a fountain opened for sin and all uncleanness.'

'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.' 'If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a _new creature_; old things have pa.s.sed away.'

'With G.o.d all things are possible.' 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'"

As Blair spoke these words, he fixed his earnest eyes on the sailor's face, and seemed pleading for his very soul.

"There is a look about you like her, like her _up there_," said Derry, almost trembling. "I see her face in the dark night when I'm on the watch, and her eyes speak to me just as yours do--Oh, so pleading. Hus.h.!.+

There's some one coming. Write the letter as if it was one of your own.

They wont hector you now. I've taught 'em better manners. Let me see 'em touch a hair of your head, and I'll finish 'em quick."

As Derry spoke, he gave a thrust with his clenched fist as at an imaginary enemy. The eyes that had lately been softened into tenderness had their old fierce twinkle, and his hard features settled into their fixed expression of determined daring.

The men gave place as he forced his way up the hatchway. On he went, stamping along the deck as if he ground an enemy beneath his heel at every step.

CHAPTER XV.

A LETTER.

Blair would gladly have chosen another time and place for the composition of the difficult letter he was called on to write, but he felt compelled to fulfil his promise at once. The men pa.s.sed by him in silence, save the single remark of Brimstone, "Give my love to your _sweet_ mother," delivered in an insulting tone, and with a laugh more repulsive than the hiss of a snake.

Blair glanced anxiously in the direction where Derry had disappeared, almost fearing to see that clenched hand coming forth to do its threatened work of vengeance. But Derry was already far away, and Brimstone joined his mess-mates without receiving a word or sign of rebuke.

Blair took up his pen with a silent prayer that it might be guided by Him without whose aid vain are the most eloquent words of the wisest counsellor. His letter was as follows:

"DEAR ---- I don't know your name, but your father is my friend, and of course I feel interested in you for his sake. He has been very kind to me, and it is a great pleasure to me to do any thing for him. He has been talking to me of you, and while he has gone on deck he wants me to write to you. How he loves you. You are the bright spot to him in life, his oasis in the desert of this weary world.

When he is far out on the wide sea, your face comes up before him, and makes the loneliest place a home. He loves to think that you pray for him. He feels that he needs your prayers. Happy are the fathers who, plunged in earthly cares on sea and land, have children to fold their hands and lift their hearts in prayer for them. This is all you can do for your absent father. Though you could give him crowns and kingdoms, wealth and honor, they would not be worth as much as one earnest, faithful, importunate prayer in Jesus' name.

That name is all-powerful, and _must prevail_. Your father calls you his 'little flower.' He wants his little flower to be pure and modest and simple, like the lily, which all may consider and see in it the handiwork of G.o.d. Only G.o.d, who made this beautiful world, can purify and cleanse our souls and help us to walk in his holy ways. I know that you have been taught all this by the kind friends who have watched over you from infancy. Your father wants you to give good heed to their counsel, and ever watch and pray and struggle against temptation. No blow could fall on him so sore as to know his little darling was walking in the wrong path. May you never so grieve his fond heart. Again I must tell you, though you have read it in his repeated caresses, how your father loves you. May you be to him that best of treasures, a prayerful, pious daughter, is the sincere wish of

"Your father's friend,

"BLAIR ROBERTSON."

Blair folded his letter, and then addressing a few lines to his mother, he inclosed the two in a single envelope, and sought out Derry for further directions. Derry was pacing up and down the deck, making the boards ring with his heavy tread.

"Shall I read you what I have written?" said Blair, laying his hand on Derry's shoulder.

Derry started as if in a dream; but recollecting himself, he said quickly, "Yes, yes. Here, here in the moonlight. No one will listen here."

The light of the full moon fell on the open letter, and Blair read it without difficulty.

"That's it, that's it. Every word of it true," said Derry in a voice trembling with feeling. "It would kill me to think of her going wrong.

But she wont. Her way is _up_, and mine is _down, down, down_. Give me the letter; I'll put the right name on it. You don't mind my seeing what goes to your mother. That's no more than fair. I tell you I don't like folks to know where my flower hides. I'll see it into the bag, and mind you don't breathe a word of this. Mind!"

Derry's finger was raised in a threatening att.i.tude as he spoke, and he stopped after he had moved some steps away to give again to Blair this sign of silence and secrecy.

Blair lingered on deck, not to enjoy the calm moonlight which so lovingly crowned and silvered the crests of the waves. His eyes were lifted upward, but not to gaze on the deep blue of the moonlit sky. To the great Creator, without whom was not any thing made that was made, Blair was pouring out the earnest pet.i.tions of his loving heart. For Derry and his little daughter prayed the young Christian, as they only can pray who believe the blessed words, "If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it."

CHAPTER XVI.

A MARVEL.

Weeks flew by while the Molly was cruising about, waiting and watching for the expected East Indiaman. The privateer, meanwhile, was not losing time. Several small merchant vessels came in her way, and submitted without a blow to the argument of her compelling pair of guns. These vessels were either stripped of their cargo and then burnt, or else sent with a few sailors as their prize crew to some American port. The capture of the British merchant s.h.i.+ps kept the Molly supplied with the necessaries for her continued cruise, and served besides to calm the impatience of the men, who were beginning to complain of their captain's pertinacious clinging to the hope of taking the East Indiaman, which might already be safely harbored in English waters. There had been dark nights and foggy days in which she might well have pa.s.sed them, so they reasoned. But Derry Duck said there was no moving the captain, and grumblers would do best to "keep their tongues between their teeth." The mail-bag of the Molly had gone home on board one of the captured vessels, and it was a pleasant thought to Blair that his dear mother would soon feel almost as if she heard the voice of her son at her side.

Derry's little daughter too would receive her letter, and Blair tried to picture her joy as she held this treasure in her hands.

Derry moved about in his usual way, but was inclined to avoid Blair since the night when he had given the boy his confidence. Blair often found it hard to believe that those gentle, tender tones had come from Derry's great closely shut mouth, and that those snapping eyes had softened almost to tears as he spoke of his darling child.

Sunday on board the Molly was precisely like other days, as far as the movements and occupations of the men were concerned. To Blair there was ever a more solemn stillness over the sea, and a more imposing grandeur in the wide canopy of the overhanging sky. One great temple it seemed to him, the sunlit waves its s.h.i.+ning floor, the firmament its arching roof, and the unseen angels the countless wors.h.i.+ppers, singing, "Praise and glory and honor be unto the name of G.o.d most high." In this adoring song Blair heartily joined, and he longed and prayed for the time to come when on every white-winged s.h.i.+p there should be gathered the servants of the Lord of sabaoth, rejoicing to call upon his holy name and give him glory for all his wondrous works.

Absorbed in such thoughts as these, Blair was leaning over the side of the s.h.i.+p one Sunday morning. Suddenly a strong voice close at his side spoke with deep earnestness the words, "Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name."

Blair turned in astonishment, and saw Derry Duck close at his side.

Tears were coursing down those rough cheeks, and the almost blinded eyes were lifted reverently upward, and silently spoke the same language as the song of praise.

Blair's heart bounded. He could not be deceived. One of G.o.d's great miracles of grace had been wrought. The devil had been cast out, and the ransomed was giving G.o.d the glory. It must be so.

Blair seized the hand of his companion, and looking into his face, said quickly, "Oh, Derry, are you really in earnest?"

"Bless the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies,'" continued Derry with deep feeling. "He found me dead in trespa.s.ses and sins; he has given me new life in Christ Jesus. Praise and honor unto his holy name."

Tears rushed to the eyes of Blair Robertson. A fervent "Thank G.o.d!" was all he could utter. Blair's whole being did indeed "magnify the Lord" at this wonderful evidence of his power. Curses had been changed to praises. The blaspheming lips had been touched by the Saviour's hand, and taught the language of the children of G.o.d. His young servant could not but "stand in awe," and own the might and the wonderful mercy of the King of kings.

Derry was the first to break the solemn silence. "Those words never left me: 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,'" he said. "They stuck to me, and rang in my ears and searched every nook and cranny of my wicked heart. Often I had longed to be a Christian man for the little dear's sake, if not for my own; but I said to myself, 'No, Derry Duck, you are all pitch, you can't be made white;' and Satan helped me to hold on to that way of thinking. Your scripture gave the lie again and again to that. It seemed to say to me, _You_ choose blackness and d.a.m.nation, when G.o.d asks you to wash and be clean. What I've suffered these weeks, no soul out of perdition can tell. The devil clung to me. He would not let me go. He claimed me for his own. He told over to me my dark, hidden sins, and taunted me that I had gone too far to go back now. He hissed in my ear that no power could cleanse and save such as me. Then came up the words, 'With G.o.d all things are possible,' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.' 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save _sinners_.' And he has saved _me_. I am _His_. He has given me a mouth to praise him. O Blair, think of his wonderful mercy, to take poor wicked Derry Duck into the kingdom of heaven."

The boy's heart throbbed and swelled with joy and praise. What was the changing of water to wine, or the calming of the stormy sea, compared to this marvellous miracle wrought in a living human soul? "He to whom much is forgiven, loveth much," said our blessed Saviour; and in Derry this truth was abundantly verified. The Christ whose blood could wash such as he, was a Lord for whom he was willing to suffer even unto death. The mercy that could stoop to ransom such a transgressor, claimed an affection before which poor Derry's deep love for his earthly darling paled, as the things of time fade into insignificance before the things of eternity.

Blair had longed to see his rude s.h.i.+pmates forsaking their sins; he had prayed and wrestled in prayer for them. Yet now, when he saw the work begun before his eyes, he felt the faithlessness of those very prayers, and knew that they could have won no fulfilment, but for the merits of the great Intercessor in whose name they had ever been offered.

"Why should it be thought a thing incredible to you that G.o.d should raise the dead?" This question of the apostle comes with power to the Christians of our own day. Do you really believe it _possible_ for G.o.d to raise to newness of life the dead in trespa.s.ses and sins? There is no soul so hardened that it cannot be melted to penitence by the touch of the mighty Spirit of G.o.d. Let this thought make us fervent, importunate, instant in prayer for the souls that are at death's door and hasting to destruction.

Can any thing but the power of G.o.d make the moral man, once proud of his own uprightness, humble as the little child, leaning only on the cross of Christ for salvation? He who works this wonder can do yet more. What are the sins and self-will of the human heart, in comparison with the might of the majesty of Jehovah? He who laid the strong foundations of the earth, and led forth the marshalled millions of the stars in their wonderful order, can mould and fas.h.i.+on the soul of man at his will. Let us not stand doubting, timid, and faint-hearted, discouraged by the foul sins which blot and efface in man the fair image of his Maker. Let us rather "come boldly to the throne of grace," and plead through the great Intercessor for every wanderer from the right path, and specially and perseveringly for those dear ones of our own households, who, like the prodigal, have left the Father's house, to be in misery and want in sin's far foreign land.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CONFLICT.