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  "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 inChrist Jesus, he is a _new creature_; old things have passed away.''With God all things are possible.' 'Christ Jesus came into the world tosave sinners.' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white assnow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'"

  As Blair spoke these words, he fixed his earnest eyes on the sailor'sface, 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 thewatch, and her eyes speak to me just as yours do--Oh, so pleading. Hush!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 'emtouch a hair of your head, and I'll finish 'em quick."

  As Derry spoke, he gave a thrust with his clenched fist as at animaginary enemy. The eyes that had lately been softened into tendernesshad their old fierce twinkle, and his hard features settled into theirfixed 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 atevery step.

  CHAPTER XV.

  A LETTER.

  Blair would gladly have chosen another time and place for thecomposition of the difficult letter he was called on to write, but hefelt compelled to fulfil his promise at once. The men passed by him insilence, save the single remark of Brimstone, "Give my love to your_sweet_ mother," delivered in an insulting tone, and with a laugh morerepulsive 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 itsthreatened work of vengeance. But Derry was already far away, andBrimstone joined his mess-mates without receiving a word or sign ofrebuke.

  Blair took up his pen with a silent prayer that it might be guided byHim without whose aid vain are the most eloquent words of the wisestcounsellor. 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 God. Only God, 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 forfurther directions. Derry was pacing up and down the deck, making theboards ring with his heavy tread.

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

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

  The light of the full moon fell on the open letter, and Blair read itwithout difficulty.

  "That's it, that's it. Every word of it true," said Derry in a voicetrembling 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 methe letter; I'll put the right name on it. You don't mind my seeing whatgoes to your mother. That's no more than fair. I tell you I don't likefolks to know where my flower hides. I'll see it into the bag, and mindyou don't breathe a word of this. Mind!"

  Derry's finger was raised in a threatening attitude as he spoke, and hestopped after he had moved some steps away to give again to Blair thissign of silence and secrecy.

  Blair lingered on deck, not to enjoy the calm moonlight which solovingly crowned and silvered the crests of the waves. His eyes werelifted upward, but not to gaze on the deep blue of the moonlit sky. Tothe great Creator, without whom was not any thing made that was made,Blair was pouring out the earnest petitions of his loving heart. ForDerry and his little daughter prayed the young Christian, as they onlycan pray who believe the blessed words, "If ye shall ask any thing in myname, I will do it."

  CHAPTER XVI.

  A MARVEL.

  Weeks flew by while the Molly was cruising about, waiting and watchingfor the expected East Indiaman. The privateer, meanwhile, was not losingtime. Several small merchant vessels came in her way, and submittedwithout a blow to the argument of her compelling pair of guns. Thesevessels were either stripped of their cargo and then burnt, or else sentwith a few sailors as their prize crew to some American port. Thecapture of the British merchant ships kept the Molly supplied with thenecessaries for her continued cruise, and served besides to calm theimpatience of the men, who were beginning to complain of their captain'spertinacious clinging to the hope of taking the East Indiaman, whichmight already be safely harbored in English waters. There had been darknights and foggy days in which she might well have passed them, so theyreasoned. But Derry Duck said there was no moving the captain, andgrumblers would do best to "keep their tongues between their teeth." Themail-bag of the Molly had gone home on board one of the capturedvessels, and it was a pleasant thought to Blair that his dear motherwould 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 topicture her joy as she held this treasure in her hands.

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

  Sunday on board the Molly was precisely like other days, as far as themovements and occupations of the men were concerned. To Blair there wasever a more solemn stillness over the sea, and a more imposing grandeurin the wide canopy of the overhanging sky. One great temple it seemed tohim, the sunlit waves its shining floor, the firmament its arching roof,and the unseen angels the countless worshippers, singing, "Praise andglory and honor be unto the name of God most high." In this adoring songBlair heartily joined, and he longed and prayed for the time to comewhen on every white-winged ship there should be gathered the servants ofthe Lord of sabaoth, rejoicing to call upon his holy name and give himglory for all his wondrous works.

  Absorbed in such thoughts as these, Blair was leaning over the side ofthe ship one Sunday morning. Suddenly a strong voice close at his sidespoke with deep earnestness the words, "Bless the Lord, O my soul; andall that is w
ithin 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 eyeswere lifted reverently upward, and silently spoke the same language asthe song of praise.

  Blair's heart bounded. He could not be deceived. One of God's greatmiracles of grace had been wrought. The devil had been cast out, and theransomed was giving God the glory. It must be so.

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

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

  Tears rushed to the eyes of Blair Robertson. A fervent "Thank God!" wasall he could utter. Blair's whole being did indeed "magnify the Lord" atthis wonderful evidence of his power. Curses had been changed topraises. The blaspheming lips had been touched by the Saviour's hand,and taught the language of the children of God. His young servant couldnot but "stand in awe," and own the might and the wonderful mercy ofthe King of kings.

  Derry was the first to break the solemn silence. "Those words never leftme: 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; thoughthey be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,'" he said. "They stuckto me, and rang in my ears and searched every nook and cranny of mywicked heart. Often I had longed to be a Christian man for the littledear'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 holdon to that way of thinking. Your scripture gave the lie again and againto that. It seemed to say to me, _You_ choose blackness and damnation,when God 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 notlet me go. He claimed me for his own. He told over to me my dark, hiddensins, and taunted me that I had gone too far to go back now. He hissedin my ear that no power could cleanse and save such as me. Then came upthe words, 'With God all things are possible,' 'Though your sins be asscarlet, they shall be white as snow.' 'Christ Jesus came into the worldto save _sinners_.' And he has saved _me_. I am _His_. He has given me amouth to praise him. O Blair, think of his wonderful mercy, to take poorwicked Derry Duck into the kingdom of heaven."

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

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

  "Why should it be thought a thing incredible to you that God shouldraise the dead?" This question of the apostle comes with power to theChristians of our own day. Do you really believe it _possible_ for Godto raise to newness of life the dead in trespasses and sins? There is nosoul so hardened that it cannot be melted to penitence by the touch ofthe mighty Spirit of God. Let this thought make us fervent, importunate,instant in prayer for the souls that are at death's door and hasting todestruction.

  Can any thing but the power of God make the moral man, once proud of hisown uprightness, humble as the little child, leaning only on the crossof Christ for salvation? He who works this wonder can do yet more. Whatare the sins and self-will of the human heart, in comparison with themight of the majesty of Jehovah? He who laid the strong foundations ofthe earth, and led forth the marshalled millions of the stars in theirwonderful order, can mould and fashion the soul of man at his will. Letus not stand doubting, timid, and faint-hearted, discouraged by the foulsins which blot and efface in man the fair image of his Maker. Let usrather "come boldly to the throne of grace," and plead through the greatIntercessor for every wanderer from the right path, and specially andperseveringly for those dear ones of our own households, who, like theprodigal, have left the Father's house, to be in misery and want insin's far foreign land.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE CONFLICT.

  Each kind affection nature gives Religion makes more bright, As sunshine on the landscape falls, And beautifies with light.

  The patriot had hitherto been sleeping in the heart of Derry Duck; butnow he was to awake like a "strong man armed." There is not one kindly,pleasant, honorable feeling, but is strengthened and ennobled by thetouch of divine grace. Nor only so: he who finds himself suddenly aliveto his allegiance to God, has at the same time his vision cleared to seearound him a thousand hitherto unknown or neglected ties, which bind himto his fellow-men. In a whisper of conscience, he is taught that

  He is the faithful patriot, Who keeps his Maker's laws; Nor will the servant of his Lord Forsake his country's cause.

  Among the sins of which Derry Duck was called deeply to repent, was thedishonor which he had brought on his own Christian land, in many a portwhere his wild deeds had left their guilty trace. What had he done forthe glory of Christian America? Bravely he had fought under her flag;but it had been through reckless daring, or a thirst for gold. Not for anoble principle, not for the defence of home and kindred, altar andhearth-stone, had he raised his strong right arm.

  Blair Robertson rejoiced to see the spirit of true patriotism awaking inthe bosom of the hardy sailor. The high-souled boy had now a sharer inhis enthusiastic love of his country, and devotion to her cause. Theyjoined their labors at once to improve the defenders of the flag, whowere their shipmates, and yet a disgrace to their native land. Blairwent on in his own peculiar way; while Derry at once announced hisposition as a Christian mate, who would suffer no profanity in hishearing, and would see the crew of the Molly engage in no deeds on thehigh seas, not sanctioned by the letters of marque which were theirwarrant for their blows struck against the common foe.

  Some outward change had been produced in the men of the privateer, whenall thoughts were suddenly turned into a new channel. A fast sailingAmerican merchant ship informed Captain Knox that the expected EastIndiaman was not more than half a day behind her.

  All was at once stir and bustle from stem to stern of the Molly. Thesturdy little craft was like the bristling porcupine, ready andimpatient for action, when the masts of the East Indiaman slowly roseabove the horizon. The privateer gave chase at once, and rapidly nearedits prey. The guns of the Molly gave the signal for surrender. TheBritish flag went down, and Derry Duck, with a strong party of boarderswas sent at once to seize the valuable prize.

  Ready to pounce on their defenceless victims, the eager sailors climbedthe sides of the huge vessel and stood upon its deck, cutlass and pistolin hand. Suddenly the hatchways were thrown open, and a band of Britishsoldiers sprang forth with a fierce battle-cry. Derry Duck rushed amongthem with desperate valor, and was heartily seconded by his fearlessfollowers.

  From the deck of the Molly, Captain Knox could see the trap into whichhe had fallen. He could not use his well-loaded guns withoutdestruction to his own men. He could only send reinforcements to theirsmall band, and quietly see the battle fought hand to hand, which a fewcannon balls would have settled in a moment.

  Several skilful British marksmen were firing at the few who remained onthe approaching privateer, when Captain Knox ordered Blair aloft.
r />   Blair obeyed without a moment's hesitation, and sped upward as if in theglee of boyhood's play. Yet in the heart of the young patriot there wasprayer for his soul, should it be set free in that hour of danger; therewas burning love for his country's cause. The eye of Derry Duck fell onthe isolated group who had been firing at the privateer. He saw awell-known form climbing to the dizzy masthead, while the shot wereflying around him. Derry rushed in among them with his axe in his hand,and waving it around his head scattered them like leaves before thewind. He stayed long enough to see that Blair had not dropped like awounded bird among the rigging of the Molly.

  Slowly, very slowly, the boy made his way to the deck, then sank downfaint and bleeding. A bullet had entered his side; yet he had been soready for the stroke that it had not thrown him off his guard. Althoughweak and giddy, he had made his way down his narrow pathway, andreported his duty done. Even the hardy captain gave a pitying glance atthe brave boy as he was borne below by the sailors. Yet this was no timefor such thoughts in the mind of Captain Knox. The reinforcement fromthe Molly were on the deck of the East Indiaman. He could hear thehearty cheer of Derry Duck as he placed himself at their head, andrushed upon the brave Britons.

  Derry's impetuous charge was too much for the soldiers, many of themenfeebled by the climate of India, and going home to recruit in theirnative breezes. Over the deck swept Derry and his band like a fiercehurricane, which naught can stay or withstand. A shout of victory wentup from the Molly, a shout which Derry's excited men sent back over thewater in a deafening reply. The East Indiaman was won; her crew wereprisoners; her cargo the prize of the Molly.