inners.' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as
snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'"

As Blair spoke these words, he fixed his earnest eyes on the sailor's
face, and seemed pleading for his very soul.

"There is a look about you like her, like her _up there_," said Derry,
almost trembling. "I see her face in the dark night when I'm on the
watch, and her eyes speak to me just as yours do--Oh, so pleading. Hush!
There's some one coming. Write the letter as if it was one of your own.
They wont hector you now. I've taught 'em better manners. Let me see 'em
touch a hair of your head, and I'll finish 'em quick."

As Derry spoke, he gave a thrust with his clenched fist as at an
imaginary enemy. The eyes that had lately been softened into tenderness
had their old fierce twinkle, and his hard features settled into their
fixed expression of determined daring.

The men gave place as he forced his way up the hatchway. On he went,
stamping along the deck as if he ground an enemy beneath his heel at
every step.

CHAPTER XV.

A LETTER.

Blair would gladly have chosen another time and place for the
composition of the difficult letter he was called on to write, but he
felt compelled to fulfil his promise at once. The men passed by him in
silence, save the single remark of Brimstone, "Give my love to your
_sweet_ mother," delivered in an insulting tone, and with a laugh more
repulsive than the hiss of a snake.

Blair glanced anxiously in the direction where Derry had disappeared,
almost fearing to see that clenched hand coming forth to do its
threatened work of vengeance. But Derry was already far away, and
Brimstone joined his mess-mates without receiving a word or sign of
rebuke.

Blair took up his pen with a silent prayer that it might be guided by
Him without whose aid vain are the most eloquent words of the wisest
counsellor. His letter was as follows:

"DEAR ---- I don't know your name, but your father is my friend, and
of course I feel interested in you for his sake. He has been very
kind to me, and it is a great pleasure to me to do any thing for
him. He has been talking to me of you, and while he has gone on deck
he wants me to write to you. How he loves you. You are the bright
spot to him in life, his oasis in the desert of this weary world.
When he is far out on the wide sea, your face comes up before him,
and makes the loneliest p