HOME.
A light fall of snow had clothed all Fairport in white, and whispered in
the ears of lingering birds that they had better be off for the "sunny
south," ere old winter had fairly begun his icy reign. Cold and dark,
the waters of the harbor lay encircled by the pure and glistening land.
Cheerful wood fires were warming many a hearth-stone, while wives and
mothers thought of their absent ones on the sea, and hoped and prayed no
chilling storm might be rending their sails and perilling the lives so
precious to home and native land.
Mrs. Robertson had suffered from many anxious thoughts since the
departure of her brave son. But hers was not a timid or a repining
spirit. She knew that the same eye watched over him on sea as on land;
and the almighty arm could protect him as well upon the deep waters, as
in the shelter of his mother's fireside.
Fairport glasses had plainly seen the British colors mounted by the
vessel which had borne away the young pilot. The mother's heart throbbed
as she mentally pictured the determined patriotism of her darling son.
Not merely a fancy and a picture that scene remained.
The two privateers which had given chase to the dismantled British
vessel had an easy victory, and soon brought her triumphantly into
Boston harbor. Hal Hutching's story won him liberty at once. The English
boy had no sooner set foot on land, than he turned his face in the
direction of Fairport. Way-worn and foot-sore he was, when he knocked at
last at Mrs. Robertson's door. Warmth and welcome, love and gratitude
awaited him within. It was his privilege first to tell the mother how
nobly her son had borne himself in the hour of trial, and with what
calmness he had faced the king of terrors. Poor Hal by turns wept and
glowed with enthusiasm, as he dwelt on the praise of his friend, while
the mother's heart welled with deep thankfulness at the mercy which had
so spared and honored her boy.
Many and many a time was Hal Hutchings forced to tell over his story to
auditors of all ages and conditions. The Fairport Guard, formally
assembled, demanded the right of a relation especially for them. Every
young heart beat high, and every eye flashed with kindling pride in
their brave commander, and each one resolved to be, like him, an honor
to his home and country. Like Lycurgus, their leader had given his laws,
then left his followers to be faithful until his return. Anew they
pledged themselves to keep their pure code, and strive to be a body
which Blair Robertson the patriot would not be ashamed to command.
Hal Hutchings meekly bore the reflected honors that were thrust upon
him, and well understood that it was his connection with the absent
Fairport boy which made him such an object of interest. Hal however did
not object to the golden gains which resulted from his new position.
Everybody was ready to give him "a job" now, and his old clothes were
soon exchanged for new ones, bought with his own money and adapted to
his own taste.
Not a day passed that did not see Hal Hutchings at Mrs. Robertson's
door, to lend his strong arm and willing feet to do for her some little
kindness, a true labor of love. When the Sabbath was wearing away, Hal
might be seen moving his coarse finger slowly along the sacred page,
reading holy words, to which Mrs. Robertson from time to time added her
voice of explanation or gentle persuasive counsel.
So the chilling weeks of autumn passed at Fairport, and now the first
snow was ushering in November's dreary rule. A strong landward breeze
was rolling the waves one after another as in a merry chase towards the
shore, while the Fairport Guard were gathered on the wharf, valiantly
fighting a battle with snowballs. The appearance of a ship entering the
harbor soon called the attention of the combatants away from the
"charge, rally, and charge again," in which they had just been engaged.
Men muffled in greatcoats came out of the neighboring stores and
offices, and shivered in the cold wind as they bent their eyes on the
stranger ship, for so at once they pronounced her.
"British build and rigging, but the right colors flying. She knows the
channel. See, she makes it as well as if she had Joe Robertson himself
on board. There now, don't she come up the harbor as if this was her
home, and she knew just where she was going to cast anchor?"
Remarks like these dropped from the lips of the eager watchers:
"I shouldn't wonder if it was our captain coming from foreign parts,"
said a small member of the Fairport Guard. "He's took that ship as
likely as not, and is coming home in her."
"Pshaw, child," burst from several listeners.
"I wish we did know where that boy is," said another speaker. "He's a
credit to this place, that's certain."
"He's an honor to America," said Hal Hutchings, who was now allowed to
give his views on all occasions. Hal's face was bent forward, and his
eye was fixed on a slender lad who was anxiously looking towards the
shore. "It's him, it's him; it's Blair, I tell you. It's him," shouted
Hal, throwing his cap in the air, and giving three leaps that would have
astounded a catamount.
Hal Hutchings fought his way to the privilege of being the first to
grasp Blair's hand, as he stepped ashore; then there was a perfect rush
of hands and a cheer from young and old that Derry Duck said was the
pleasantest music that ever he heard.
"Where is she? Where's my mother, Hal?" said Blair as soon as he could
speak.
"Hearty, hearty, and just like an angel as she always was," said Hal
vociferously. The boy's joy seemed to have made him almost beside
himself. "She don't know you're here, she don't. I'll be off to tell
her."
"No, Hal, no. I'll be there in a minute myself," said Blair, moving off
at a marvellous pace for a boy who had been wounded so lately.
The Fairport Guard fell into rank and followed their commander, while a
motly crowd brought up the rear.
Blair stood on the familiar door-step. He laid his hand on the lock, and
paused for a second to calm his swelling emotions, in which gratitude to
God was even stronger than the deep love for his mother.
Quietly sat Mrs. Robertson, plying the needle at her fireside, when the
door gently opened, and her son stood before her.
That was a moment of joy too deep for description. While the mother and
son were clasped in a long embrace, Hal could not help having his share
of the interview by crying out, "He's come home! Be n't it splendid?
He's come! Dear, dear, I shall burst."
"You dear good fellow," said Blair, throwing his arm over Hal's
shoulder, "you've been a comfort to my mother, I know."
"That he has," said Mrs. Robertson. "It was he who told me how your
noble courage saved your native town and the very home of your mother
from the flames. I thank God for such a son."
"Then I did what you would have wished, mother. Your praise is my
precious reward," said Blair with affectionate simplicity.
"God has sustained you in the path of duty, and brought you in safety to
your home and your mother. Let us thank him for all his mercies, my
son. Hal is no stranger to prayer now; he will gladly join us."
It was indeed the voice of true thanksgiving which rose from those
grateful hearts. He who has contrived joys for the meanest of his
creatures, doubtless takes a pure pleasure in the happiness which he
gives to his chosen ones even here; and rejoices to know that it is but
the foreshadowing of that eternal delight in store for them where
parting shall be no more.