"_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." CHAPTER X. A NEW DECK. The British vessel had indeed suffered much damage in the fearful storm. The crashing and wrenching that had so overwhelmed poor Hal with terror, had been the destruction of mast and yard and bulwark. Yet, though sorely dismantled, the good ship was able to keep bravely on her way. She had been several days heading for the distant shores of England, alone on the wide ocean, which like a sulky child bore the marks of its late outburst of passion long after the sky above was all smiles and sunshine. The appearance of three sails along the far horizon caught the captain's wary eye. That they were Americans he did not doubt--privateers, against which singly he could have won an easy victory; but disabled as his vessel now was, he could not dare to cope with such a trio.