The Boy Patriot | Page 3

have protested. We have declared war to the death. Has Fairport a voice in this matter? Where are those whom we love best? Where but upon the wide sea, a prey to our remorseless enemy. Where is your father, and yours, and yours, and mine?" said Blair, making his appeal personal as he pointed to the sailors' sons. "This insolence must be checked. We must rebuke the proud Briton on the very scene of his abominations. We must triumph over him on the tossing ocean, and teach him that America, not Britannia, rules the waves. Would that we all stood on some staunch ship, to do battle with our young right-arms. Then should Englishmen cringe before us; then would we doom to sudden destruction their boasted admirals and flimsy fleets. Down with the English! down with the English!"
Blair stamped emphatically on his hollow throne, until it rang again.
"Down with the English!" echoed the crowd in a burst of enthusiasm.
At this moment a short, stout lad came round a neighboring corner. On his arm he carried a large basket of clean linen, with which he now tried to elbow his way through the crowd.
"An English boy! Shame that he should show his face among us," said Blair in his excitement.
"We'll give him a taste of salt water," said two or three of the oldest boys as they seized the stranger roughly by the shoulders. "We'll teach him to mend his manners."
"Stop, stop, boys. Give him fair play," shouted Blair; but Blair was no longer the object of attention.
The English boy, in spite of his struggles, was hurried to the edge of the wharf, and pushed relentlessly over the brink.
A thorough ducking to him, and the scattering of his precious basket of clothes, was all that the young rascals intended. To their horror, the stranger sank like a heavy load--rose, and then sank again.
"He can't swim; he can't swim. He'll be drowned!" burst from the lips of the spectators. All were paralyzed with fear.
Blair had forced his way through the crowd, and reached the edge of the wharf in time to see the pale, agonized face of the English boy, as he for the second time rose to the surface. In another moment Blair was diving where, far in the deep water, the pale face had vanished from sight.
There was a moment of breathless silence, then a deafening cheer, as Blair reappeared with the drowning boy in his arms.
There were hands enough outstretched to aid him in laying his burden on the shore. "Help me carry him, boys, straight to our house. Mother will know what to do for him," said Blair, speaking very quickly.
It was but a few steps down a neighboring street to Joe Robertson's pleasant home.
Blair did not fear to take in the dripping boy and lay him on his mother's best bed. He knew that mother's joy was to minister to the distressed and succor the unfortunate.
The water was soon pouring from the mouth, nose, and ears of the unconscious lad. Then he was rubbed and wrapped round with hot flannels, while Mrs. Robertson's own hands forced his lungs to work, until they again took their natural movement.
Not a word was asked as to how the accident had happened, until, out of danger, the rescued boy was in a sweet sleep.
The eager crowd who had followed Blair and his charge had vanished, and the mother sat alone with her son. Blair's dripping garments had been exchanged for another suit, but in the midst of the late confusion his mother's eye had silently and gratefully marked upon him the signs that to him the English boy owed his life.
"You saved him, my son. God be thanked. I may well be proud of my boy," said the mother earnestly and fondly.
A sudden flush of shame crimsoned the cheeks of Blair Robertson. "Oh, mother, it was all my fault," he exclaimed. "If he had died--Oh, if he had died, that pale struggling face would have haunted me to my grave. I had been making one of my speeches to the boys, and it pleased me to see how I could rouse them. I had just shouted 'Down with the English!' and made them join me, when poor Hal came round the corner. Nobody would have noticed him if I had gone right on; but I pointed him out, and angry as they were, I could not stop them before they had thrown him into the water. They thought he could swim, I dare say; but I knew he couldn't. Oh, mother, what I suffered, thinking he might drown before I could reach him. But he's safe now. You think he'll get well, don't you, mother?"
"Yes, my child," said Mrs. Robertson, trembling with deep feeling. "God's mercy has been great to you,