d."

Luckless members of the Fairport Guard who had not had the precaution to
tie on their head-gear, might be seen breaking rank and running
indecorously in various directions in pursuit of hat or cap, while the
skirts of the captain's time-honored coat flapped in the wind, like the
signal of a ship in distress.

It was in the endeavor to complete their usual tour, by passing along
the wharf, that this military body was subjected to this attack from old
Boreas. Worse confusion, however, soon broke up all order among them. A
group of men on the wharf had been for some time looking at a ship
nearing the harbor. They could not make her out, they said. She was a
stranger in those waters, and yet bore the American flag. She seemed a
man-of-war, and was evidently signalling for a pilot.

Fairport harbor, smooth and safe as it was, cradled among the
overhanging cliffs, had a guard at its entrance which no stranger might
defy. Its deep narrow channel went winding among hidden rocks, and woe
betide the keel that ventured a dozen yards from its appointed path.

For thirty years Joe Robertson had been the pilot of Fairport, and was
as well known to the frequenters of that harbor as was the tall spire
which was the pride of the town. The sound of war had, however, roused
within him the spirit of his father of Revolutionary memory. He declared
he would not have it said that Joe Robertson was content to play
door-keeper to the harbor of Fairport, while brave men were shedding
their blood for the country, as dear to him as to them. Joe's enthusiasm
was contagious. It spread through all Fairport, and there was hardly a
man who could bear arms on sea or land who was not off at his country's
bidding.

Old Jock, who had had one leg bitten off by a shark, men who had been
crippled by a fall from mainmast or yard, and sickly sailors, worn out
by the fevers of southern ports, were left at home to keep company with
the few true landsmen, the shopmen of the town.

Old Jock had been content to serve as pilot since the departure of Joe,
and well he knew the channel; but he seemed to have grown lazy, or
particularly careful of himself, since Hal had come under his roof. Now
he positively refused to go to the vessel in the offing. He plainly
expressed his doubts as to what kind of a craft she was, and moreover
declared that such a squall as was coming up was "not to be risked by
any man in his senses, even if that old ship went to the botto