Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Boy Patriot by Edward Sylvester Ellis (romantic books to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis
Book online «The Boy Patriot by Edward Sylvester Ellis (romantic books to read TXT) 📖». Author Edward Sylvester Ellis
Quick as thought the little boat had turned its head, and was making towards the shore. The movement was not unperceived on board the man-of-war, and its cause was at once understood. A boat, manned by a dozen strong rowers, had been made ready for such an emergency. They were quickly in pursuit of the retreating pilot. They gained rapidly upon the boys, and were soon63 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 of Blair Robertson; but he thought of his mother, and was silent. He had no right 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 worthy mark for your treacherous British muskets," said Blair boldly. "I would dare you to fire, but there are those at home who would miss us too much. Do what you will with us; we are your prisoners."
The British tars handled their captives without ceremony, and hurried them at once on board the man-of-war and presented them before its impatient commander.64
Not a little surprised at the grotesque appearance of the prisoners, he exclaimed in astonishment, "Who and what are you?"
"I am a Yankee boy, the captain of the Fairport Guard," said Blair frankly. "We had been parading, when your signal for a pilot called me too suddenly away for me to have time to lay aside this dress, this coat 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-fool of a companion?"
"It is my friend, and one of our company. He would not see me risking my life on the water while he stood on the shore. Would that we had many such 'Tom-fools,' with brave, strong hearts like his."65
As Blair spoke, he took off his official cap and left his noble young head bare. With another movement the precious coat was thrown over his arm, and the stripling stood in his school-boy dress before the English commander, who exclaimed, "A pretty pilot, you. Who sent you on this mad errand?"
"My father has been for thirty years the pilot of Fairport. He is now absent fighting for his country against her oppressors. I know the channel well. No one of our few remaining men would venture his life in such a sea for an unknown vessel, and so I came. I knew it would be certain 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'll run up the British flag, and go into port under fair colors."
The commander gave the necessary66 orders to have the last suggestion carried out, and the sailors were prompt to do his bidding.
Blair stood perfectly still, while a look of stern determination sat on his 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 been reading. He made it into a firm scroll, and placed it upon the edge of the railing near which he was standing. Then turning to one of the sailors, he said,67 "Here, let me see you cut that through with your knife. Be quick."
The man drew the long knife from his belt, and with one sweeping stroke severed the thick scroll. One part went fluttering through the air and dropped in the angry waters, while the other was firmly held by the commander.
"Put young master's right-hand in the same place, and we will see it food for fishes. Or will he choose to do his duty, and keep his precious five fingers for future use?"
The words had hardly passed from the lips of the British officer, when Blair laid his hand calmly on the railing, and exclaimed, "Now, God helping me, you may tear me limb from limb, and I will be true to my country and my home."
"It's no use. He'll keep his word. You can't force 'im," shouted Hal Hutchings, the tears coursing down his cheeks.68
The wild winds swept through the rigging, and the storm came on with sudden violence.
This was no time for contention with such a spirit as Blair had displayed, and the captain at once gave orders to make for the open sea, where he might the more safely abide the approaching tempest. The Fairport channel had been strewn with too many wrecks to be ventured without a careful pilot, and of that the English captain had been fully warned.
Blair and Hal were hastily thrust below, while rapid preparations were made to meet the coming hour of danger.
The place in which Blair and his companion found themselves was a small strongly built closet, used as a "lock-up" for refractory sailors. A single bull's-eye admitted a mere glimmer of light for a while, but that soon died away in utter darkness as the night came rapidly on. It was well for the boys that they knew something of ocean's rough rocking. A land-lubber would have had all the miseries of sea-sickness added to the horrors of that dreary dungeon.
A new exaltation of spirit had come over Blair. Difficulties and dangers seemed as nothing to him while in the path of duty. He feared neither the raging elements nor the power of angry70 enemies. He had the promise that those who trust in God shall never be moved, and in this strong refuge he was safe.
Not so with poor Hal. The dread of death had seized him, and absorbed all other thoughts. He could not but think of the horrors into which he should be plunged if he suddenly found a watery grave. Prayer seemed impossible for him, as in a kind of agonized waiting he met every plunge and 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 coming doom. Even the wild prayers for deliverance which may burst from the affrighted soul, what will they avail at the judgment? Are they the cries of the contrite heart mourning for its sins against a holy, loving, and beneficent71 heavenly Father? Are they not rather but as the shrieks of the criminal who sees no escape from his merited retribution? Alas for him who postpones his day of repentance till face to face with the king of terrors. It is he only who is strong in his great Deliverer who can see that icy beckoning hand, and amid the shrinking of human nature find himself calm in the strength which only God supplies. If the agonies or the stupor of the sick-bed unfit the soul to seek peace with God in the dying hour, even so does the anguish of such fear as now bowed poor Hal to the earth.
As the English lad crouched in his terror, Blair knelt at his side and prayed earnestly for him to that God who seemed to the young Christian but the more surely at hand, for the tokens of his power that made that mighty ship quiver like a leaf in the autumn wind.72
Worn out with the excess of his own strong emotion, Hal at length sank into a deep slumber, and rolled and tossed with the vessel like a lifeless thing. Blair feared the poor boy had actually died of terror; but he soon convinced himself that there was yet motion in that heart which had throbbed so truly for him.
There was no sleep for Blair during that long wild night. In the intensity of his excitement, his thoughts flew through his mind with a vividness and a swiftness that made him almost feel that he was tasting a new and higher kind of existence. Spiritual things were as real to him as his own identity, and the God in whom he trusted seemed at his side as 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 sustained and gently73 led along her lonely pathway. Had he not been fulfilling her oft-repeated counsel, to fear nothing but sin? Had he not vindicated that love of his native land, which she had taught him should be next to his allegiance to God? She might never know his fate. Yet she would mourn for him as for one who died in his effort to fulfil the duties of his absent father, and risked his own life to save the human freight of a ship from wreck and sure destruction.
Daylight brought but a feeble glimmer to Blair's dark prison-house, yet he welcomed it as the assurance of dawn—dawn which is ever welcome to the watcher, though it may usher in a day of double danger.
Hal was still in the deep sleep into which he had fallen, when the bolts of their place of confinement were withdrawn. Blair's clear bright eyes looked full in the face of the English commander, who now stood before him.
"Give me your hand, my boy," said the captain. "I can respect bravery wherever 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; the best of mothers. She would rather have me die in the right cause, than live a traitor."
"You will not give me your hand? Perhaps I do not deserve it; but it was75 not cruelty which prompted me to act as I did last evening. I felt our danger, and scrupled not to use any means which should bring you to terms. Your constancy triumphed. I knew that no threats could force such a spirit. You shall not lose your reward, in the knowledge of the service you have done your home and your kindred. My orders were to get into the harbor of Fairport, to take possession of the naval stores there belonging to privateersmen, and then to reduce the town to ashes."
For the first time Blair's eyes filled with tears, and his chest swelled with strong emotion as he exclaimed, "Thank God, I have been able to be useful to my country and my home. This will fill my mother's heart with joy. 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 not willingly76 have my name go out as one who would maim and torture a brave lad. My desperation is my excuse for my expedient of last evening. I want you to promise to keep that scene a secret. You may perchance some day have your own sins to cover. I have been reckoned brave and honorable, and I would not have my fair name tarnished. Will you promise?"
"I forgive you from my heart. I promise," said Blair, frankly extending his 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 her honor in his hour of danger. Tell her the story, but let her keep it to herself. 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 a sacrifice?"77
"I own I should like to be known as one who had done something for his native land," said Blair; "but it will do me good, and make me the purer patriot, I trust, to have only my mother's praise, if we ever meet again."
"You shall be released at the earliest opportunity; but this your companion must stay with us. I wish he was of the stuff
Comments (0)