Captain Knox did not set off in pursuit of the British vessel from which Blair had so unexpectedly escaped.  Our young sailor soon learned that the “Molly” was on the look-out for richer prey, in the shape of an East Indiaman, whose costly cargo was expected to prove a gold mine for captain and crew.

The love of adventure and the lust for gold seemed uppermost in the minds of Blair’s new companions.  The Fairport boy was not long in discovering that there was about as little Christian patriotism on board the Molly, as there is verdure in Sahara.  In the freedom of the mess-table, the late achievements of the crew were the occasion of many a “yarn,” and of many a fierce discussion as to who had been the boldest and most reckless in the excitement of attack and victory.  It was plain that the crew of the Molly were little better than a den of thieves, their whole thought being of plunder, their whole ambition the winning of gold.  Blair blushed for the honor of his country, to find such men among her avowed defenders.  Oaths and obscenity made even more hateful the rough narratives in which each strove to prove himself more hardened and abandoned than the last speaker.  Blair’s soul recoiled with horror from the taint of such companionship; yet for him there was no escape.  Among these coarse rovers he was forced to eat and sleep, to live and labor, while many weeks went by.

The youngest on board, he was at the beck and call of these rough men, who made his body as weary of doing their bidding as his soul of their words of wickedness.  A deep, hearty hatred of the crew of the Molly took possession of Blair Robertson.  He wondered that a benevolent Providence should have placed a Christian boy in the midst of the pollution of such associates, and subject to the martyrdom of hearing their daily talk.  A cold and haughty silence was Blair’s defence against their scolding and their railing.  With a feeling of conscious superiority he moved among them, desiring their praise even less than their persecution.

The names of the crew of the Molly were as unattractive as their appearance and manners.  These soubriquets spoke not of pious parents who had given their children to God, with a Christian name which they trusted would be registered in heaven.  They told rather of lawless lives, and a past which must be buried in oblivion or acknowledged with shame and perhaps fear.  “Fighting-cock,” “Torpedo,” “Brimstone,” and “the Slasher,” were among the leaders who dubbed Blair with the title of “Mum,” and so saluted him on all occasions.  Blair had a very considerable sense of his own dignity, and was by no means pleased with this style of address.  Yet he showed his resentment by increased taciturnity rather than by words.  Captain Knox and Derry Duck soon found out that Blair Robertson was no useless addition to the crew, and promptly gave him his share in the watch and in other duties which his strength would permit.

The hours of the watch were to Blair the most agreeable he now enjoyed.  In the silent night, with the sea below and the sentinel stars overhead, he could commune with God, undisturbed by the wickedness of man.

Blair had not been a day on board the Molly, when Torpedo, a fiery young Spaniard, spied him reading his pocket-Testament in a quiet part of the ship.  The book was snatched away and flung triumphantly into the water, while Torpedo exclaimed in bad English that Blair should follow it if he tried to force any of his canting notions on the free crew of the privateer.  Well was it for Blair that his mind was stored with chapter after chapter of the precious volume, which would otherwise have been to him now a sealed book.  It surprised him to see how much of the Scriptures he could by a strong effort recall, and most consoling and cheering to him were those words of peace and power.

In one of these lonely watches, Blair’s thoughts turned to his present companions with his usual loathing.  Suddenly there came to him the image of these rough bad men in their days of babyhood, ere yet this evil world had found its full response in the evil within their poor human hearts.  He could fancy the loving eye of God on those little ones, following them along their dreary pathway, and grieving as thicker grew the crust of sin over all that had been pure and childlike, and more and more dark their coming doom.  Blair realized for the first time the love of God, the pure and holy God, for those wicked transgressors of his law.  “Yes,” he thought, “it was while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.  He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.  Hateful as must have been to Him the atmosphere of guilt and degradation in this lower world, he left his Father’s throne and came to seek and to save that which was lost.”  Ah, how unlike the ministry of the Son of man had been Blair’s proud, self-exalting, unloving demeanor.  Perhaps mercy for those poor abandoned men had sent a Christian boy to dwell among them and show forth the image of his Master.  With deep shame Blair saw how unchristian had been his thoughts and acts towards his uncongenial associates.  Had he not cherished the very spirit of the Pharisee, “Stand by thyself; I am holier than thou?” Blair thought of his proud and hasty temper and of the many sins of his boyhood, and meekly owned that but for the loving hand of God which had hedged him round against temptation, and planted him in the garden of the Lord, he might have been even worse than these wild rovers of the sea.  Earnestly he prayed that he might so live and love on board the Molly, that at least a faint image might be given of the great Example, who endured the contradiction of sinners, and for their sakes was willing to suffer even unto death.

Shame and indignation that such men should profess to be defenders of the American flag had hitherto been a chill to the patriotism of Blair Robertson.  Now the thought struck him, that if he could but win one of these hardy sailors to be a Christian servant of his country, an honor to the flag under which he sailed, not in vain would a young patriot have endured the trials and temptations of the “Molly.”  “But,” thought Blair, “what am I, single-handed, against so many?  How can I hope to bring a blessing by the prayers of my one heart, be it ever so devoted?” He remembered that the prayer of the patriot Moses saved the hosts of the children of Israel from utter destruction at the hand of their offended God.  At the prayer of Paul, the Ruler of the seas gave him not only his own life, but the lives of all that were with him in the ship.  “I cannot,” he said to himself, “hope to prevail like these saints of old, at least not for my own sake; but the name of Jesus is all-powerful.  I will plead it for the poor wanderers about me, and God will in due time, I trust, prosper and bless my efforts.”