A REWARD.
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of their place of confinement were withdrawn.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
was 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
willingly 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?"
"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 that you are. We
would make a British tar of him, who would do us honor. His tongue tells
the story of his birth, even if we could doubt the witness of his Saxon
eyes and hair."
"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.
"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, 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."