NO!
The pilot-boat was nearing the strange vessel, when Blair suddenly
exclaimed, "I see British uniforms on board. We have been tricked by
that flag falsely displayed. It is an English man-of-war. Put about.
We'll pilot no such vessel into Fairport."
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 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 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.
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."
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 necessary 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, "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.
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.