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; but
now he was to awake like a "strong man armed." There is not one kindly,
pleasant, honorable feeling, but is strengthened and ennobled by the
touch of divine grace. Nor only so: he who finds himself suddenly alive
to his allegiance to God, has at the same time his vision cleared to see
around him a thousand hitherto unknown or neglected ties, which bind him
to 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 the
dishonor which he had brought on his own Christian land, in many a port
where his wild deeds had left their guilty trace. What had he done for
the 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 a
noble principle, not for the defence of home and kindred, altar and
hearth-stone, had he raised his strong right arm.
Blair Robertson rejoiced to see the spirit of true patriotism awaking in
the bosom of the hardy sailor. The high-souled boy had now a sharer in
his enthusiastic love of his country, and devotion to her cause. They
joined their labors at once to improve the defenders of the flag, who
were their shipmates, and yet a disgrace to their native land. Blair
went on in his own peculiar way; while Derry at once announced his
position as a Christian mate, who would suffer no profanity in his
hearing, and would see the crew of the Molly engage in no deeds on the
high seas, not sanctioned by the letters of marque which were their
warrant for their blows struck against the common foe.
Some outward change had been produced in the men of the privateer, when
all thoughts were suddenly turned into a new channel. A fast sailing
American merchant ship informed Captain Knox that the expected East
Indiaman was not more than half a day behind her.
All was at once stir and bustle from stem to stern of the Molly. The
sturdy little craft was like the bristling porcupine, ready and
impatient for action, when the masts of the East Indiaman slowly rose
above the horizon. The privateer gave chase at once, and rapidly neared
its prey. The guns of the Molly gave the signal for surrender. The
British flag went down, and Derry Duck, with a strong party of boarders
was sent at once to seize the valuable prize.
Ready to pounce on their defenceless victims, the eager sailors climbed
the sides of the huge vessel and stood upon its deck, cutlass and pistol
in hand. Suddenly the hatchways were thrown open, and a band of British
soldiers sprang forth with a fierce battle-cry. Derry Duck rushed among
them with desperate valor, and was heartily seconded by his fearless
followers.
From the deck of the Molly, Captain Knox could see the trap into which
he had fallen. He could not use his well-loaded guns without
destruction to his own men. He could only send reinforcements to their
small band, and quietly see the battle fought hand to hand, which a few
cannon balls would have settled in a moment.
Several skilful British marksmen were firing at the few who remained on
the approaching privateer, when Captain Knox ordered Blair aloft.
Blair obeyed without a moment's hesitation, and sped upward as if in the
glee of boyhood's play. Yet in the heart of the young patriot there was
prayer for his soul, should it be set free in that hour of danger; there
was burning love for his country's cause. The eye of Derry Duck fell on
the isolated group who had been firing at the privateer. He saw a
well-known form climbing to the dizzy masthead, while the shot were
flying around him. Derry rushed in among them with his axe in his hand,
and waving it around his head scattered them like leaves before the
wind. He stayed long enough to see that Blair had not dropped like a
wounded bird among the rigging of the Molly.
Slowly, very slowly, the boy made his way to the deck, then sank down
faint and bleeding. A bullet had entered his side; yet he had been so
ready for the stroke that it had not thrown him off his guard. Although
weak and giddy, he had made his way down his narrow pathway, and
reported his duty done. Even the hardy captain gave a pitying glance at
the brave boy as he was borne below by the sailors. Yet this was no time
for such thoughts in the mind of Captain Knox. The reinforcement from
the Molly were on the deck of the East Indiaman. He could hear the
hearty cheer of Derry Duck as he placed himself at their head, and
rushed upon the brave Britons.
Derry's impetuous charge was too much for the soldiers, many of them
enfeebled by the climate of India, and going home to recruit in their
native breezes. Over the deck swept Derry and his band like a fierce
hurricane, which naught can stay or withstand. A shout of victory went
up from the Molly, a shout which Derry's excited men sent back over the
water in a deafening reply. The East Indiaman was won; her crew were
prisoners; her cargo the prize of the Molly.
Where was Blair Robertson amid the general triumph? This was Derry
Duck's first question, as his returning footsteps again trod the deck of
the privateer.
Alone in the deserted cabin, Derry found what was more precious to him
now than his share in the glory or the spoils of the recent fight.
The rough sailor asked no questions of the fainting lad. Tearing open
Blair's garments, he found at once the wound, and with ready skill and
unwavering firmness his sharp knife did the surgeon's duty. The bullet
was forced out by Derry's hard fingers, and his rough hands tied the
bandage with a touching attempt at tenderness. Blair uttered no murmur.
His lips moved gently, but they whispered only words befitting the
sinner passing into the presence of his God.
Derry caught the low whisper, and understood its meaning. "I can't let
you go. What! going? Oh my lad!" and Derry Duck's hard, blood-marked
face was suddenly wet with tears.