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
"He chose to be an American. He worked his way to a home with us, and to us he ought to belong," said Blair boldly.
"He is English, unnaturalized of course, as he is under age. He belongs to us by all law. I wish he were a better prey," said the captain.78
"You do Hal Hutchings injustice. A truer heart never throbbed. Timid as he is, he ventured with me in the boat because he would not see me go alone. Let him once love his duty as he loves me, and there will be no post 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 chance of escape where we now are. You will see how our good vessel has suffered by the storm. Yet she weathered it bravely. You shall have food here 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,79 was to throw himself on his knees beside his sleeping companion. From the depths of his heart he thanked God for enabling him to be firm to his duty; and earnestly he prayed that he might be made humble in the midst of the honor which had been allowed him. For his dear mother too rose a fervent prayer that she might be kept in the hollow of her Maker's hand during the absence of her son, whom she had striven to train as a Christian patriot, whose watchwords are ever, "God and my native land."
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, though sorely 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 its late outburst of passion long after the sky above was all smiles and sunshine.
The appearance of three sails along the far horizon caught the captain's wary eye. That they were Americans he did81 not doubt—privateers, against which singly he could have won an easy victory; but disabled as his 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 wrote a few lines hastily, sealed them, and summoned Blair to his side. "My boy," he said, "I want to send you on a dangerous mission. Dare you trust yourself in your boat upon the sea, chafing as it still is from the late storm? I want a messenger to send to yonder craft so swiftly nearing 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 a free boy, the sky above and the friendly waters below. Friendly they seemed to82 him as he sped over the waves towards the flag of his native land. He did not look behind him to see that the Stars and Stripes were waving above the British vessel, run up when she was called on to show her colors. He did not note the fact that the deck on which he had lately stood was fast passing from sight while he hasted on his errand.
Two of the privateers kept up their chase of the suspicious craft, while the other hove to, to receive the message which had been signalized as in the hands of the boy in the fast approaching boat.
Blair stepped freely and gladly when he was once more among his own dear countrymen, and it was with a beaming face that he presented his sealed note to the captain of the "Molly."
The note was as follows: "We send you herewith an American boy, by chance83 our prisoner. We trust that the gaining of such an addition to your crew will make amends for the loss of the British property which this delay gives us a chance to carry off in safety."
The captain of the Molly read these few words at a glance; then stamping his foot, he exclaimed, "You young villain! American or no American, you shall suffer for this sneaking trick. We'll send you back again out of the mouth of our guns, or half-way at least. It is not worth our while to follow that miserable cheat. Those good ships will take him before many hours are over. Yankees know a British hull if American colors are flying over her."
Blair looked with astonishment where, far over the waters, the British man-of-war was fading from sight.
"It is a shabby trick, but I was no party to it," he exclaimed. "I would84 sooner lose my right hand than lift one finger against my countrymen. I am an American. I am the son of old Joe Robertson, the pilot of Fairport. Perhaps you know him. If you do, you will be sure that 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 the face of the boy. Blair's words came too quickly, and his voice was pitched too high for English birth, and that the blunt captain marked at once.
"No matter who you are or where you came from, if you are all right as to the Stars and Stripes," said Captain Knox. "We don't ask too many questions here as to what folks have been before they come aboard the Molly. If you can obey orders and handle a rope, this is the85 place for you to make your fortune. Go aft, and Derry Duck our first-mate will find something for you to do in short order. He knows how to take the stiffness out of a fellow's bones."
Thus dismissed, Blair mingled among the sailors at the other end of the vessel, 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 forty fathoms in salt water, with a hundred weight of lead at his heels."
Captain Knox did not set off in pursuit of the British vessel from which Blair had so unexpectedly escaped. Our young sailor soon learned that the "Molly" was on the look-out for richer prey, in the shape of an East Indiaman, whose costly cargo was expected to prove a gold mine for captain and crew.
The love of adventure and the lust for gold seemed uppermost in the minds of Blair's new companions. The Fairport boy was not long in discovering that there was about as little Christian patriotism on board the Molly, as there is verdure in Sahara. In the freedom of the mess-table, the late achievements of87 the crew were the occasion of many a "yarn," and of many a fierce discussion as to who had been the boldest and most reckless in the excitement of attack and victory. It was plain that the crew of the Molly were little better than a den of thieves, their whole thought being of plunder, their whole ambition the winning of gold. Blair blushed for the honor of his country, to find such men among her avowed defenders. Oaths and obscenity made even more hateful the rough narratives in which each strove to prove himself more hardened and abandoned than the last speaker. Blair's soul recoiled with horror from 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 and labor, while many weeks went by.
The youngest on board, he was at the beck and call of these rough men, who88 made his body as weary of doing their bidding as his soul of their words of wickedness. A deep, hearty hatred of the crew of the Molly took possession of Blair Robertson. He wondered that a benevolent Providence should have placed a Christian boy in the midst of the pollution of such associates, and subject to the martyrdom of hearing their daily talk. A cold and haughty silence was Blair's defence against their scolding and their railing. With a feeling of conscious superiority he moved among them, desiring their praise even less than their persecution.
The names of the crew of the Molly were as unattractive as their appearance and manners. These soubriquets spoke not of pious parents who had given their children to God, with a Christian name which they trusted would be registered in heaven. They told rather of lawless89 lives, and a past which must be buried in oblivion or acknowledged with shame 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 very considerable sense of his own dignity, and was by no means pleased with this style of address. Yet he showed his resentment by increased taciturnity rather than by words. Captain Knox and Derry Duck soon found out that Blair Robertson was no useless addition to the crew, and promptly gave him his share in the watch and in other duties which his strength 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 could90 commune with God, undisturbed by the wickedness of man.
Blair had not been a day on board the Molly, when Torpedo, a fiery young Spaniard, spied him reading his pocket-Testament in a quiet part of the ship. The book was snatched away and flung triumphantly into the water, while Torpedo exclaimed in bad English that Blair should follow it if he tried to force any of his canting notions on the free crew of the privateer. Well was it for Blair that his mind was stored with chapter after chapter of the precious volume, which would otherwise have been to him now a sealed book. It surprised him to see how much of the Scriptures he could by a strong effort recall, and most consoling and cheering to him were those words of peace and power.
In one of these lonely watches, Blair's thoughts turned to his present compan91ions with his usual loathing. Suddenly there came to him the image of these rough bad men in their days of babyhood, ere yet this evil world had found its full response in the evil within their poor human hearts. He could fancy the loving eye of God on those little ones, following them along their dreary pathway, and grieving as thicker grew the crust of sin over all that had been pure and childlike, and more and more dark their coming doom. Blair realized for the first time the love of God, the pure and holy God, for those wicked transgressors of his law. "Yes," he thought, "it was while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. Hateful as must have been to Him the atmosphere of guilt and degradation in this lower world, he left his Father's throne and came to seek and to save92 that which was lost." Ah, how unlike the ministry of the Son of man had been Blair's proud, self-exalting, unloving demeanor. Perhaps mercy for those poor abandoned men had sent a Christian boy to dwell among them and show forth the image of his Master. With deep shame Blair saw how unchristian had been his thoughts and acts towards his uncongenial associates. Had he not cherished the very spirit of the Pharisee, "Stand by thyself; I am holier than thou?" Blair thought of his proud and hasty temper and of the
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