s bones."

Thus dismissed, Blair mingled among the sailors at the other end of the
vessel, by no means a welcome guest. Muttered curses fell on his ears,
and more than one voice was heard to say, "He ought to be sunk forty
fathoms in salt water, with a hundred weight of lead at his heels."

CHAPTER XI.

"MUM."

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