y was in the heart of Blair, even as his
hands were busy with the melting wax, or loosing the rude entrance to
the post-office on the sea.

CHAPTER XIII.

TEMPTATION.

Derry Duck was no mean ally. The strength of his arm, and his position
as second in command, gave him great influence on board the Molly. There
were traditions of the power of his bare fist to deal death with a
single blow--traditions which won for him an odd kind of respect, and
insured for him the obedience he never failed to exact. Derry having
avowed himself the friend of Blair Robertson, it was well understood
that there must be an end to the peculiar persecutions to which the boy
had been subjected. He could not of course escape such rough usage of
word and act as the crew had for each other, but he was to be no longer
their chosen butt and scape-goat.

Blair felt at once the advantage of having so powerful "a friend at
court," and he eagerly seized upon the favorable turn in affairs to
carry out his new plans and wishes for his associates. It had struck him
that there was but one way to avoid having his ears pained and his soul
polluted by the conversation that was the entertainment of the mess. He
must do his share of the talking, and so adapt it to his own taste and
principles. The lion's share Blair determined it should be, and that
without unfairness, as he had to make up for lost time. Once assured
that Brimstone's unwashed hand was not to be placed over his mouth if he
attempted to speak, and the cry, "Shut up, Mum," raised by his
companions, Blair's tongue was set loose.

We have said that Blair was by no means averse to hearing his own voice;
and much as his guiding motives and aims had changed, the Blair on
board the Molly was still the same human being that he was in Joe
Robertson's little parlor in Fairport. Never did city belle strive more
earnestly to make her conversation attractive to her hearers, than did
our young patriot, actuated by a motive which is in comparison with hers
as the sunlight to the glow-worm's uncertain ray.

Blair had songs to sing and speeches to make. He had wild stories of the
struggles of the early settlers of Maine, caught long ago from the lips
of gray-haired men and treasured in the boy's heart, that had little
reckoned the coming use for these hoarded wonders. The captains who had
shared the services of the pilot of Fairport had filled his willing ears
with tales of their adventures in every