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. CHAPTER VIII. THE STORM. The place in which Blair and his companion found themselves was a small strongly built closet, used as a "lock-up" for refractory sailors. A single bull's-eye admitted a mere glimmer of light for a while, but that soon died away in utter darkness as the night came rapidly on. It was well for the boys that they knew something of ocean's rough rocking. A land-lubber would have had all the miseries of sea-sickness added to the horrors of that dreary dungeon. A new exaltation of spirit had come over Blair. Difficulties and dangers seemed as nothing to him while in the path of duty. He feared neither the raging elements nor the power of angry enemies. He had the promise that those who trust in God shall never be moved, and in this strong refuge he was safe.