THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Rare Book Room 
 GIFT OF 
 
 John W, Beckman 
 
/%/. 
 



 
 
THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE FISHERMAN'S BOY, THE AUNT FRIENDLY 
 BOOKS, ETC. 
 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMEKICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by O. R. 
 KINGSBURY, in the Clerk's Office for the Southern District of New 
 York. 
 
THE characters in the following story 
 have been sketched in the hope of call 
 ing attention to the interests of our sea 
 men, and of being useful to the sailors 
 themselves. 
 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 A Young Sailor, - 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Good Samaritans, - 14 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A Family Council , 20 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Discovery, - 29 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 ALong Story, 37 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Blue Flag, 46 
 
 CHARTER VII. 
 A Stranger, 51 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Awaking, -~ 58 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Theodore, 62 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Burnings' Journey, 67 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Tidings, -.- 76 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Box, ........................................ 84 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. . 
 The Present, ........ - ........... - ............... _ gO 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Companions, ..................................... 95 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Sick-bed, .................................... 101 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A New Friend, .................................. -109 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Sabbath, .................................... 119 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Almost Home, .................... - ............... 126 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Binnings again, ................................. 136 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 An Interview, .................................... 146 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Prayers, ......................................... 156 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Home, ........................................... 166 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 A Visit, --------- ..................... ^ ........... 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Conclusion. --* ..... - ..... ^--- .................. ,_ 189 
 
THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A YOUNG SAILOR. 
 
 THEODORE GOULD was going to sea. 
 Theodore was no scapegrace, about to tie 
 up his bundle and sneak out a back-win 
 dow, as a runaway. If he had no Chris 
 tian principle to keep him from such a 
 mean act, he was too truthful and hon 
 orable so to grieve and try his widowed 
 mother. 
 
 He had fairly and frankly told that 
 mother that no life could so please and 
 satisfy him as life on the sea. A strange 
 fancy, it seemed to her, to want to be 
 always in the midst of the wild roar of 
 
V THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 the ocean, and exposed to its fierce 
 storms and thousand lurking dangers. 
 And yet she reasoned with herself, "If 
 no one fancied this rough career, what 
 would become of our commerce? Who 
 would man our ships of war, and carry 
 our stars and stripes to the ends of the 
 earth ? The very missionaries themselves 
 could never tread on foreign soil, were 
 there no strong-hearted sailors to choose 
 the ocean for their home. 77 
 
 Yes, it must be right that some boys 
 should incline to this dangerous occupa 
 tion, and she would not withhold her son 
 from the profession of his choice. True, 
 her mothers pride had received a sad 
 blow. Theodore had been first in his 
 class at the high-school, and praises of 
 his manly deportment had been sound 
 ing on all sides. She had hoped to see 
 him distinguish himself through the tal 
 ents with which she was sure he was 
 
A YOUNG SAILOR. 9 
 
 gifted. Well, that was all over now. 
 One absorbing desire had taken posses 
 sion of the boy's mind ; a sailor, and a 
 sailor only, he wished to be. 
 
 Mrs. Gould had no friends in high 
 quarters to win for her son a position in 
 the navy. She had not even an old sea- 
 captain for an uncle to get her boy a 
 good berth. He must take his chance 
 before the mast, if he became a sailor at 
 all. A rough, hard way of life, truly, 
 for a lad who had enjoyed all the com 
 forts of a quiet New England home. 
 
 Theodore, for his part, fancied begin 
 ning his career at the lowest round of the 
 ladder. He said he didn't want to be 
 pushed and bolstered; he preferred to 
 fight his own way, and so have some sat 
 isfaction in his victory. 
 
 He had watched the packing of his 
 chest with infinite satisfaction. Such gar 
 ments could belong to none but a sailor 
 
10 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 He was beginning to realize that the fa 
 vorite wish of his heart was about to be 
 fulfilled. He had a pleasure in talking 
 bravely of shipwreck and danger, when 
 his sister Ella spoke timidly of what 
 might befall him on the sea. 
 
 " Never fear for me, Ella," he said 
 cheerily. "I feel it in my bones that 
 the salt water is to do me no harm. You 
 know I can swim like a fish, and climb 
 like a squirrel; and as to hardship, 
 there 7 s not a fellow in school can stand 
 what I can." 
 
 "May God preserve you from dan 
 ger, my son," said Mrs. Gould, soberly 
 and sorrowfully; "a trust in his protec 
 tion is a better safeguard than any hu 
 man strength." 
 
 "It is natural for women to be timid. 
 I do n't wonder you feel as you do about 
 my going," said Theodore, affectionately; 
 "but never fear, mother, you'll have me 
 
A YOUNG SAILOR. 11 
 
 back again, taller and browner may be, 
 but just the same son to you. 77 
 
 The boy put his arm round his mother 
 as he spoke, and looked tenderly into 
 her face. 
 
 "Dear Theodore/ 7 she said, "much as 
 I dread the dangers of the sea for you, I 
 fear still more the influence of wild, reck 
 less companions. How could I bear to 
 see you a poor dissipated creature, like 
 too many sailors who disgrace our coun 
 try at home and abroad. 77 
 
 The mother covered her face with her 
 hands, at the frightful picture she had 
 conjured up. 
 
 "Oh, mother, how can you think that 
 possible? I hope I am too much of a 
 gentleman to be so degraded, 77 said The 
 odore, proudly. 
 
 "Will you bring me home an ele 
 phant? 77 interposed little Bob, the pet of 
 the house. 
 
 
12 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Bob was always sure to have some 
 thing to say, when any painful discussion 
 seemed coming up in the family. His odd, 
 inappropriate remarks had broken up 
 many a threatened difficulty at the fire 
 side. 
 
 "I'll bring you home something, cer 
 tainly, 77 said Theodore, pleasantly, "what, 
 I can't say; but I shall be able to tell 
 you all about elephants ; I shall see plen 
 ty of them in India, and boa constrictors 
 too, and tigers, and a thousand curious 
 things besides. 77 
 
 Bob looked up with profound respect 
 at the tall brother who was to see so 
 much, and who was so strong in his con 
 fidence in his own power and virtue. 
 
 Mrs. Gould meanwhile gazed tender 
 ly at the manly, frank-faced boy, and 
 yearned to hear him utter if it were but 
 one word which would show that his trust 
 was in Grod, rather than in his poor hu- 
 
A YOUNG SAILOR. 13 
 
 man strength, and his own poor human 
 heart. 
 
 No such words were to gladden her 
 ears in that last interview. Theodore's 
 cheerful, affectionate spirit held out until 
 the moment came for saying good-by; 
 then, in the midst of his assurances that 
 all would be well, he dashed away warm 
 tears from his eyes, tears of real sorrow 
 at parting with the dear ones at home. 
 
 The sailor boy, in his sailor's dress, 
 jumped into the stage-coach that was to 
 bear him to the seaport, where the good 
 ship Kearny, bound for India, was lying 
 at anchor. Hope again twinkled in his 
 eye, and glad smiles played around his 
 mouth. He had no fears, no misgivings 
 for the future. 
 
14 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GOOD SAMARITANS. 
 
 WHILE Theodore Gould is getting on 
 his "sea legs," and learning some of the 
 pleasures and pains of life on the ocean, 
 we will turn our attention to matters tak 
 ing place on shore. 
 
 The cool evening air of autumn was 
 settling over an Atlantic seaport. No 
 country lake or stream had yet consented 
 to travel mile after mile under ground, 
 to spout up at hydrants, and supply innu 
 merable bath-rooms for the benefit of the 
 good folks of the growing town. No, no. 
 Those were the old days, when pump- 
 handles were to be plied, or well-ropes 
 pulled, and every gallon of fresh water 
 was procured at the expense of some 
 body's muscles. 
 
GOOD SAMARITANS. 15 
 
 A tidy little girl had patiently waited 
 for her turn at the corner pump, and now 
 her bucket was full, and with the pecul 
 iar, sidling motion of carrying a weight 
 upon one arm, she was moving along the 
 pavement. 
 
 Suddenly she stopped, and putting 
 down her burden, stood perfectly still. 
 She was not giving up, wearied out, half 
 way home. Not she. That was not the 
 spirit of Jennet Coney. Jennet had come 
 upon a scene that had arrested her atten 
 tion. Here was something she could not 
 pass by, and with an air of eager inter 
 est she stood a mute spectator of what 
 was going on before her. 
 
 A middle-aged man in a sailor's dress 
 was sitting on the edge of a low flight of 
 steps, with his head bowed upon his hand. 
 One leg of his loose trowsers hung help 
 lessly down from the knee, plainly show 
 ing that the stout calf and broad foot that 
 
16 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 should have matched its fellow near by 
 had been left somewhere on life's jour 
 ney, much to the loss of the owner. This 
 in itself would have attracted Jennet's 
 attention and aroused her prompt sym 
 pathy, but the dejected air of the stran 
 ger still further called forth her compas 
 sion. 
 
 A knot of little boys had gathered 
 around the sailor, and were trying, by 
 pretended attacks on his person, and by 
 noisy raillery, to move him from his po 
 sition. 
 
 "Let me alone, boys; I'm sick/ 7 he 
 said at length, looking up sorrowfully. 
 
 There was a momentary pause while 
 the children questioned among them 
 selves the truth of his defence. Pity 
 soon stole over several countenances, 
 and there was a decided falling back, 
 when one of the roughest of the little 
 crew exclaimed, " It ? s a sham. May be 
 
GOOD SAMARITANS. 17 
 
 he is sick, though. May be he 's got it 
 very bad." Then, by imitating the mo 
 tion of drinking from a bottle, he hinted 
 to his companions the kind of sickness 
 from which he believed the stranger to 
 be suffering. 
 
 "I do n't drink, boys ; 1 'm sick/ 7 said 
 the man, with the same sorrowful look 
 as before. 
 
 There was an attempt at a halloo from 
 the rude leader of the attack, but the 
 smaller boys had slipped away, evidently 
 convinced that there was no fun to be 
 got out of such a sad stranger. 
 
 All this Jennet Coney had seen with 
 burning indignation, and now she prompt 
 ly stepped to the sailor's side, saying, 
 
 " Mister, it 's getting late. If you are 
 sick, you had better just come on a few 
 doors to where my mother lives, and I 
 know she '11 let you stay at our house to 
 night." 
 
 Blue Flag. 2 
 
18 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 The man raised his eyes. There was 
 truth and real hearty interest in Jen 
 net's face, but still he hesitated. 
 
 "I don't know anybody. Nobody 11 
 take me in. May be I'm going to be 
 very sick. When the folks find me, 
 they'll take me to the hospital. Go 
 along, child ; your mother wont take in 
 a poor sick fellow like me." 
 
 " Please, sir, my father was a sailor," 
 urged the little girl. 
 
 Jennet seemed to think this was a con 
 quering argument, for she picked up the 
 cane that had dropped from the stran 
 ger's hand, and giving it to him, resumed 
 her bucket, as if the move was about to 
 be made. There was something in her 
 assured way that had its weight. The 
 sailor rose with difficulty, and slowly fol 
 lowed his young guide. 
 
 Jennet's home was, as she had said, 
 but a few doors off, and it was soon 
 
GOOD SAMARITANS. 19 
 
 reached, even by her trembling, totter 
 ing companion. 
 
 "It's a poor sailor, mother; a sick 
 man, 77 said Jennet, bursting in before 
 him. "The boys were making fun of 
 him, and he 7 s only got one leg ; so I 
 brought him home for you to take care 
 of. He's real sick, mother. 77 
 
 "Very sick, ma 7 am, 77 said the stran 
 ger, his pale face and trembling limbs 
 proving the truth of his words. 
 
 A sick sailor ! Ah, that was a thought 
 that touched good Mrs. Coney to the 
 quick. Had not her own Jack, her 
 strong-hearted husband, died a stranger 
 in a foreign hospital. This was a claim 
 not to be resisted. 
 
 "Come in, sir. You are welcome, 77 
 she said heartily. "You did right, Jen 
 net. You did right, my child. 77 
 
20 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FAMILY COUNCIL. 
 
 MRS. CONEY was one of those genial, 
 kindly, busy people, who like nothing so 
 well as being actively engaged, especial 
 ly if benefiting others as well as them 
 selves. 
 
 For three weeks she had been active 
 enough to suit even her stirring, energetic 
 spirit. 
 
 The stranger's illness had proved no 
 sham, and no thing of a day to be put to 
 flight by a single visit from a knowing 
 doctor. The sailor was still fast in bed, 
 and suffering woful pains, judging from 
 his moans and ejaculations. More ex 
 plicit communications than these he had 
 not made since he was kindly hurried in 
 to Mrs. Coney's only spare room, on the 
 
A FAMILY COUNCIL. 21 
 
 night of his arrival. The fever which 
 had raged in his veins ever since, had so 
 confused his brain that any conversation 
 with him had been impossible. 
 
 Tenderly, as if he had been a sick child, 
 the poor fellow had been nursed by Mrs. 
 Coney, Gideon, and Jennet, and in their 
 family councils he was talked about as if 
 he were somebody who was particularly 
 dear to them. 
 
 The sailor's clothes were marked "Bin- 
 nings" and by that name he was confi 
 dently called. 
 
 Grideon Coney had come down stairs 
 to breakfast, after a night of attendance 
 on the sick man. Grideon was no beauty 
 at the best, and now his light hair was 
 standing off from his fair, pale face in 
 every direction, giving a wide-open look 
 to his large, round blue eyes. 
 
 "Gi-o, put yourself in order, Grideon, " 
 said Mrs. Coney, as if shrinking from the 
 
22 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 appearance of the youth about to present 
 himself at her table. There was nothing 
 on the table particularly worthy of re 
 spect. The little black teapot had only 
 a plate of bread and a dish of roasted 
 potatoes to keep it company ; but if Mrs. 
 Coney had been going to sit down with 
 her children to crusts and cold water, she 
 would have insisted upon their appear 
 ing in a decent and orderly manner. 
 
 As Grideon started off to do her bidding, 
 her voice sounded out pleasantly after 
 him, as she said, "Wash your face well, 
 and clear up your thoughts, my son ; I 
 want to consult you about matters of im 
 portance. 77 
 
 What! did the thrifty, busy Mrs. Co 
 ney ever ask advice of her slender, sim 
 ple-looking boy? Many people would 
 have considered brisk little Jennet a far 
 better counsellor. 
 
 Mrs. Coney was thoughtful and silent 
 
A FAMILY COUNCIL. 23 
 
 during the meal, and when it was over 
 particularly prompt and active in clear 
 ing away the table. 
 
 When the small common room of the 
 Coneys was in order once more, Mrs. 
 Coney stepped to the stairway and called 
 Gideon from the post he had resumed at 
 Binnings' bed-side. 
 
 " How is he now? 77 inquired Mrs. Coney, 
 as anxiously as if she had summoned Gid 
 eon solely to hear of the stranger's wel 
 fare. "In a real quiet sleep, mother/ 7 
 said Gideon, and his plain face actually 
 looked handsome, as it was overspread 
 with hearty, kindly satisfaction at the 
 good news he was telling. 
 
 Mrs. Coney motioned Gideon to a chair 
 near the now empty table, and then sit 
 ting down opposite to him, she was about 
 to open the conversation, when Jennet 
 came bustling in and established herself 
 beside her mother. 
 
24 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 " Gideon," said Mrs. Coney, very so 
 berly, "how long is it since Binnings 
 
 came. 77 
 
 "Three weeks to-night; I was count 
 ing it up just now, 77 was the prompt an 
 swer. 
 
 "Three weeks; I thought so, 77 mused 
 Mrs. Coney. "Well, Gideon, we 7 ve paid 
 up every thing, medicine, doctor, and all ; 
 are you sure there 7 s nothing owing? 77 
 
 "Not a cent, mother, 77 said Gideon 
 proudly. Mrs. Coney took from her 
 pocket a small worn purse and emptied 
 slowly on the table four half-dollars and 
 two bright quarters. "There, children, 
 that 7 s all there is left. Gideon, shall we 
 have Binnings sent to the hospital, and 
 give up doing for him? 77 
 
 "I 7 11 go without meat for a week, if 
 you 7 ll keep him, 77 said Jennet, quickly. 
 
 "We 11 hold on to him, while there is 
 any life in him, 77 said Gideon, decidedly, 
 
A FAMILY COUNCIL. 25 
 
 " That's right, my children; so we 
 will," said Mrs. Coney, with unusual 
 warmth. "We wont give up a poor 
 sailor, when he 's at the worst." 
 
 Mrs. Coney had a habit of asking the ad 
 vice of her children, not only to strength 
 en herself in resolutions she had formed, 
 but to interest them in helping to execute 
 her plans. They well knew her spirit, 
 and were quite sure to advise in accord 
 ance with it. 
 
 "Now we 've made up our minds, how 
 shall we carry it out, Grideon?" contin 
 ued the mother. "Thanks to Jack Co 
 ney's thrifty ways, he did n't leave me 
 without a roof of my own over my head ; 
 but there 's the bread and butter to be 
 found, and a woman's needle do n't make 
 gold in a hurry. I must n't wrong my 
 own for strangers; we must sell some 
 thing, Gideon ; what shall it be ?" 
 
 Jennet's thoughts rapidly passed 
 
26 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 through her own possessions, while Grid- 
 eon's eye restlessly wandered round the 
 room, with a glance, now and then, at 
 his mother, as if to discern the plan she 
 had in her mind. 
 
 In one corner stood a rude case of 
 shelves, on which were arranged bright- 
 colored shells from every clime, and an 
 assortment of corals that would have 
 charmed a collector. 
 
 Here Gideon's eye rested, and the sor 
 rowful approval in his mother's face, as 
 sured him that he was right. 
 
 "Shall we sell the shells, the shells 
 father brought home ?" exclaimed Gid 
 eon, with pained astonishment. The idea 
 that those treasures which had been con 
 sidered too sacred for him to touch, 
 should fall into the hands of strangers, 
 was hard to be received. 
 
 "To help a poor sailor in his need, 
 Jack would have wished it/ 7 said Mrs, 
 
A FAMILY COUNCIL. 27 
 
 Coney, slowly, and with difficulty. Ah, 
 every one of those bright treasures of 
 ocean had other whispers for her than 
 the roar of the far-off waves, that seems 
 ever imprisoned in their secret cells. They 
 told her of the glad returns from distant 
 perils of the one she loved best. She 
 well knew which had been brought from 
 islands in the sea, which from the tropic 
 heats where Jack had lain sick of a fever, 
 and which from the inhospitable shore 
 where he had ouce wandered, a ship 
 wrecked mariner. 
 
 One little shell that had its own tiny 
 case, Mrs. Coney now took in her hands. 
 The rest might go, but she could not 
 part with that. Had not Jack sent it 
 to her by a messmate, with the honest 
 earnings that he had hoped himself to 
 lay in her hand. Had he not bade her 
 remember, when she looked at that harp- 
 shell, that he was now sounding his harp 
 
28 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 where there was " no more sea " and no 
 more parting. The rest might go ; but 
 she could not spare that dear relic, which 
 ever reminded her that he whom she 
 mourned had cheerfully and belieyingly 
 passed to his eternal home. 
 
 It was Jennet who watched at Bin- 
 nings' bed-side that day; and as the 
 sailor quietly dozed, the little girl plied 
 her nimble fingers, feeling at each stitch 
 that she was not only doing her part 
 towards refilling the family purse, but 
 haying her share in befriending the des 
 olate and afflicted stranger. 
 
 Grideon, meanwhile, had gone forth to 
 try his skill as a salesman, disposing of 
 treasures which could be to no one so 
 precious as to the sailor 's wife. 
 
A DISCOVERY. 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 
 dollars! That seemed a paltry 
 sum to receive for the inestimable cabi 
 net, which had been Mrs. Coney's chief 
 treasure and the wonder of all the neigh 
 borhood. Yet she cheerfully slipped the 
 money into her worn purse, sure that she 
 was doing better honor to the memory of 
 her husband by befriending a destitute 
 sailor, than in clinging to the dear me 
 mentos of the past. With even this 
 small addition to the family stock, by 
 self-denial and strict economy, they would 
 be able to give Binnings the comforts 
 that he now so needed for restoration to 
 health. 
 
 Ah, it is the poor who are the best 
 friends of the poor. They who have 
 
30 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 been pinched by poverty are most eager 
 to draw others from her painful clutches. 
 He who "suffered, being tempted, 7 ' was 
 best fitted to succor the suffering and the 
 tempted. We have here the explanation 
 of the afflictions through which many of 
 God's people are called to pass, that they 
 may be fitted to minister, Christ-like, to 
 the sons and daughters of sorrow. 
 
 Their joint efforts for their sick guest 
 seemed to have knit Mrs. Coney and her 
 children into a closer bond of union. 
 Binnings was their common subject of 
 interest and their common topic of con 
 versation. Now that he was actually re 
 covering, a merry spirit was pervading 
 the house, and the humble repasts were 
 seasoned by chat quite as cheerful as if 
 the viands were better. 
 
 Jennet had taken Binnings his dinner, 
 and had watched him with satisfaction as 
 he ate mouthful after mouthful of the ten- 
 
A DISCOVERY. 31 
 
 der steak with the relish that only comes 
 after the long fast of fever. 
 
 " There, child, that's a meal; a real 
 hearty one," he exclaimed, as he laid the 
 fork down on the empty plate. "I won 
 der if you can take comfort that way. 
 Wasn't that steak good! 77 
 
 " I am glad you enjoyed it, ;? said Jennet, 
 her whole face sparkling with pleasure. 
 
 "Tell me, how did it taste to you?" he 
 said, pleasantly. 
 
 Jennet was embarrassed, and for a 
 moment was silent. 
 
 An uncomfortable thought struck Bin- 
 nings like a knife. "Oh, child," he said 
 quickly, "do you give me better dinners 
 than you have yourself? Tell me that ; 
 speak out plain." 
 
 "We have all we want. We are very 
 comfortable indeed," persisted Jennet. 
 It was in vain for Binnings to try to get 
 any more definite answer. 
 
32 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Jennet might as well have spoken out 
 plainly. Binnings had guessed the truth. 
 He had read the unselfish kindness of the 
 humble family, who had been denying 
 themselves that he might have the nour 
 ishing food needed to restore strength 
 to his limbs and vigor to his frame. Ah, 
 that thought made him feel weak indeed, 
 and it roused such a tide of grateful love 
 as well-nigh unmanned him. Truly he 
 thanked God that in his hour of peril he 
 had fallen among good Samaritans. 
 
 Jennet was dispatched at once to call 
 her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Coney hurried up-stairs, fearing 
 that the patient was threatened with a 
 relapse. She did not find Binnings either 
 in a fit or a faint. There he sat in the 
 calico-covered easy-chair, with his leg 
 and a half stretched out on a wash-bench, 
 and a general air of comfort pervading 
 the small but neat apartment. 
 
A DISCOVERY. 33 
 
 "Sit down, ma'am; sit down, ma'am," 
 said Binnings, trying to put on a business 
 air, when his heart was full to overflow 
 ing. " You are a widow, ma'am, I know ; 
 a sailor's widow. God forbid that I should 
 ever devour the substance that belongs 
 to a sailor's children, and be a burden on 
 a sailor's widow. I thank you for your 
 goodness to me, more than I am able to 
 say now. I'll tell you about that by and 
 by. But here 's the question, What do I 
 owe you? 77 
 
 Mrs. Coney was taken utterly by sur 
 prise ; nay, poor as she was, she was ac 
 tually hurt and disappointed. 
 
 "I hav'n't looked for any return. I 
 did for you as I would have wished folks 
 to do for my Jack in like case," she re 
 plied. 
 
 " And your Jack would have paid up 
 like a man, as soon as he was able. Is n't 
 that so?" urged Binnings, quickly. 
 
34 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Mrs. Coney was overcome and con 
 fused by this sudden turn in the argu 
 ment, and was forced to answer truly, "I 
 believe he would. Jack never liked .to 
 be beholden to anybody, if he could help 
 it, He had an independent spirit in him." 
 
 "And so have I," said Binnings. "I 
 can't pay you for what you 've done for 
 me. The Lord will reward you. He 
 keeps reckoning of them that care for 
 the sick and the stranger. I just want 
 to pay my honest debts." 
 
 Mrs. Coney gave a doubtful glance 
 around the room, as if to see where the 
 stores were from which Binnings was to 
 make his payments. The young scamp 
 who had led the band of boys about him 
 on the night when he was taken sick, had 
 not failed to relieve him of his pocket- 
 book in one of his pretended attacks on 
 his person. This Binnings and the fam 
 ily well knew. 
 
A DISCOVERY. 35 
 
 A quiet smile passed over the sailor's 
 face as lie said, "I've been ashore too 
 many times in a strange place to keep 
 my earnings by me over night. I took 
 care to put what money I had with my 
 nest-egg in the savings-bank as soon as 
 I set foot on land. There it stands, 
 charged to John Binnings, to go to sail 
 ors' orphan children when John Bin 
 nings has done with this world. I am 
 going to let you see that I can write my 
 name, and that somebody 's heard of me 
 before. Get me some paper and a pen, 
 Jennet." 
 
 Jennet brought the required articles, 
 and Binnings wrote a draft on the City 
 Savings-bank for twenty dollars, sign 
 ing his name with the necessary flour 
 ishes, which he considered a lawful part 
 of his signature. 
 
 "This from John Binnings to Jack 
 Coney's children, to see that they fare 
 
36 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 as well as he does," said the sailor, hand 
 ing it to Mrs. Coney. He well knew that 
 any form of giving her the money would 
 be more pleasing than a direct payment. 
 Blunt as he was, the rough man was not 
 wanting in delicacy of feeling. He had 
 received that which no money could re 
 pay, and he would not pretend that he 
 considered the matter finished by a set 
 tlement in dollars and cents. 
 
 Gideon Coney made his first visit to 
 the bank the next morning, and his round 
 eyes opened wider than ever when, in 
 return for John Binnings' feeble scrawl, 
 he received twenty gold dollars, bright 
 and shining as if just from the United 
 States mint. 
 
A LONG STORY. 37 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A LONG STORY. 
 
 BINNINGS was rapidly recovering. He 
 began to feel the old vigor in Ms strong 
 arm, the old energy in his stout heart. 
 With returning health his wonted love of 
 fun came back to him, and his store of 
 sea-stories, that had been as in a sealed 
 casket, was drawn out for the delighted 
 children. 
 
 Grideon now well knew how and where 
 Binnings had lost his missing foot ; and 
 Jennet could give a correct account of 
 every one of the three long scars that 
 marked rather than defaced Binnings' 
 strong -featured but pleasant counte 
 nance. 
 
 Binnings had been taking tea with 
 Mrs. Coney and her children, and now 
 
38 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 they had all pushed back from the table, 
 and Gideon and Jennet were clamorous 
 for a story, a real true story. 
 
 "Well, here goes. IVe had it in my 
 heart to tell it, for a week back," said 
 Binnings, settling himself comfortably in 
 his chair. 
 
 " Once there was an old sinner of a 
 sailor, who, though the Lord had saved 
 him from forty and nine troubles, when 
 the fiftieth came was always for taking 
 matters in his own hands, and being his 
 own captain. This same sailor had been 
 on the sea ever since he was a wee chap, 
 and shipped with his father to wait in 
 the cabin, before he was fit to lend a 
 hand among the ropes. The sea was 
 more like a home to him than any place 
 else ; and not strange either, for he had n't 
 kith or kin either living or dead on the 
 land, saving his mother, bless her soul, 
 who died when he was born. He had 
 
A LONG STORY. 39 
 
 been used to go to sleep with the singing 
 of the waves in his ears, and he fancied 
 he could n't rest right or feel right any 
 where but aboard ship. 
 
 "Now it happened this same old fellow 
 was in a boat that got capsized once upon 
 a time, and a shark bit his leg clean off 
 shoe, stocking, and all. His messmates 
 got what there was left of him aboard, 
 and they nursed him up as if he was 
 worth saying the poor sinner. It was 
 hard enough to lie by and be waited on 
 like a girl, and there were pains to put 
 up with that it is not worth- while to 
 speak about ; but this was not what went 
 hard with the one-legged man. May be 
 you wont believe me, when I tell you he 
 turned his face to the wall and actually 
 cried, when he thought he was n't fit for 
 any thing 'board ship any more, and 
 must just be put ashore to stump it on 
 land as best he could. He was weak then, 
 
40 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 or lie would n't have been such a baby ; 
 he was a sinner, or he wouldn't have 
 murmured against the Lord's doings. 
 
 "When he got so that he could go 
 round, with a wooden pin where his leg 
 used to be, and that leg nobody knows 
 where, there came sickness aboard ship, 
 and he turned nurse, going from berth to 
 berth and standing by the fellows that 
 were so hot with fever the doctor was 
 most afraid to touch 'em. Poor sick 
 chaps ; they looked at the one-legged 
 man, such looks as mothers get some 
 times, so loving and so grateful. He 
 did n't deserve them, and he knew it in 
 his heart. May be there was some kind 
 sort of feeling in him, that kept him watch 
 ing night and day ; but that was no credit 
 to him : way down deep he was hoping 
 the fever would seize him, and let him 
 finish off his life aboard ship, like a sailor, 
 and be dropped down in the deep waters, 
 
A LONG STORY. 41 
 
 like his father and brothers before him. 
 Never mind that now, it wasn't the Lord's 
 will. 
 
 "He came ashore, as down-hearted a 
 poor fellow as ever was turned out from 
 home, to see the old door-steps no more. 
 He knew, when he turned hi$ back on the 
 ship, he had had his last voyage, and had 
 done with that way of life for ever. He 
 did n't care much what became of him ; 
 and when, towards night, he felt a heavy 
 sickness stealing over him, he hoped it 
 would soon come to an end, and put him 
 in a quiet place. He thought he was a 
 Christian, but he knows now that it is n't 
 the Christian kind of spirit to want to 
 die, to get rid of the troubles the Lord 
 sends us. 
 
 "You know who took him in, and 
 nursed him back to life, as if he was the 
 king's son. I wont talk about that now. 
 I could n't say what I feel about it, if I 
 
42 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 were to talk as long as I have strength. 
 But I tell you, John Binnings has learned 
 a lesson, and he 's got a plan in his head. 
 I Ve been thinking of the poor sick fel 
 lows that come ashore with no friend to 
 take them by the hand, and of the young 
 chaps that are dragged down to the devil 
 and plundered of all they have, because 
 there '"s nobody to put an honest roof 
 over their head. John Binnings has laid 
 up money, no great store, rich folks would 
 say, but it will answer his ends. May be 
 the Lord kept the poor sinner alive for 
 just this particular work. I can't live on 
 the sea, but I mean to live for the sail 
 ors ; and I shall have a talk with a mess 
 mate now and then, and may be I can 
 get some of them to set sail for the sure 
 harbor, and nail the Christian's colors to 
 the mast. I '11 try for it, while there 's 
 life in me." 
 
 Binnings was excited, and he stopped 
 
A LONG STORY. 43 
 
 for a moment to take breath. Gideon 
 laid his hand in the sailor's, as if to join 
 partnership with him, while Jennet hur 
 rahed her delight. Bustling, busy Mrs. 
 Coney was wiping her eyes. She was not 
 of the tearful kind, but Binnings had 
 touched the tenderest chord in her heart, 
 and awakened her^ sympathies where 
 they had their surest strong-hold. 
 
 "Who has the other part of your 
 house, Mrs. Coney ?" said Binnings, ab 
 ruptly putting the question. Now it had 
 always been a trial to Mrs. Coney that 
 when Jack had built a house of his own, 
 with a pretty plot of ground around it, 
 he should have had it back to back with 
 that of another messmate, so that they 
 both had no front door, as the woman 
 had often said, and neither had a house 
 to themselves, after all. She would not 
 reflect on her husband's judgment now, 
 though she was not slow in relating her 
 
44 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 various trials from her near neighbors ; 
 but she closed up cheerfully, as she 
 always did after a storm, by adding that 
 there was nobody there now, she was 
 thankful to say, though 'To let 7 had been 
 posted up at the front windows for three 
 weeks steady. 
 
 "It's just the thing. Til rent that 
 house to-morrow, if I am spared to see 
 the sun. You shall do the business for 
 me, Grideon. And now for something 
 more. You love the sailors, Mrs. Coney ; 
 that 's what I want. There 7 s no driving 
 woman, if she was ever so smart, that 
 could come up to what I want, if the real 
 feeling for folks that follow the sea wasn't 
 in her. This is my plan: I'll get the 
 house ready ; but I want you to keep it 
 in order, and see that the poor fellows 
 are comfortable. Those that are able to 
 pay, shall pay and welcome, and those 
 that hav'n't the cash shall be cheerfully 
 
A LONG STORY. 45 
 
 taken care of, while I am hobbling about 
 this world. When the months come 
 round, if there 's any money made, it 
 shall be yours; if there's any money 
 lost, I'll make it up. Is it a bargain? 
 Will you help me to have a decent place 
 to take sailors to, and keep them out of 
 mischief? 77 
 
 "With all my heart, and God bless 
 you for the thought, 7 ' said Mrs. Coney 
 earnestly. 
 
 " We'll all do what we can," said 
 Jennet, who liked to have it understood 
 that she was a partner in all her mother's 
 concerns. 
 
 Gideon said nothing, but he grasped 
 Binnings' hand tightly, while he earnest 
 ly prayed that God would send a bless 
 ing on their new undertaking, and make 
 himself known to the children of the sea. 
 
46 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 "As neat as wax! as neat as wax!" 
 Binnings was walking through his new 
 house, and everywhere bestowing his 
 praise. Mrs. Coney and Jennet and Gid 
 eon were following him in procession, 
 enjoying his hearty satisfaction. Very 
 hard they had all three worked, and 
 there had been much planning and re- 
 planning before every thing could be 
 bought and brought into its present con 
 dition of perfect order. 
 
 All was plain, as plain as possible, 
 but, as Binnings said, "neat as wax, and 
 wholesome and comfortable to boot. 77 Oil 
 cloth on the floors, cheap white spreads 
 on the narrow beds ; in the sitting-room 
 down stairs, a newspaper laid on the 
 
THE BLUE FLAG. 47 
 
 great round table, and a Yankee clock 
 ticking out the time from above the man 
 tel-piece. 
 
 "It's complete/ 7 said Binnings, after 
 making the round. 
 
 ' ' We ought to have a sign out, LODG 
 INGS FOR SAILORS, or something of that 
 kind, 77 said Jennet. 
 
 "No, no, that a 7 n 7 t my plan, 77 said 
 Binnings quickly; "that might get in 
 too many of the wrong sort. I mean 
 to pick them up about the wharves, and 
 bring home just such as I like, till we 
 get the run of the right kind of cus 
 tomers. 77 
 
 "But we ought to have some way of 
 letting them know the house, 77 persisted 
 Jennet. "You can 7 t wait on every body 
 here you want to send home ; the houses 
 a 7 n 7 t numbered, you know. 77 
 
 "Suppose we hang out the 'Stars and 
 Stripes, 777 suggested Gideon. 
 
48 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 " And have our house taken for a rub- 
 a-dub recruiting office! 77 said Binnings; 
 "and yet we might have some kind of a 
 flag, just to mark it. 77 
 
 Mrs. Coney disappeared for a moment, 
 and soon returned with something care 
 fully wrapped in a napkin. Jennet well 
 knew the square of blue cloth, like her 
 father's last jacket, which her mother 
 had carefully preserved among her treas 
 ures. Now its blue folds were shaken 
 out, as Mrs. Coney said, "This is the 
 sailor's color. Will this do for our flag, 
 Mr. Binnings? 77 
 
 Jennet had whispered to the old sailor 
 the association which had given a charm 
 to the offering Mrs. Coney was now 
 making, and he took it respectfully in his 
 hand as he said, 
 
 "It is just the thing, Mrs. Coney; 
 the true sailor's color. May many a 
 poor fellow bless the day when he found 
 
THE BLUE FLAG. 49 
 
 his way to the house with the Blue 
 Flag." . 
 
 It was an easy task for Grideon prompt 
 ly to procure a flag-staff, and then he 
 eagerly exclaimed, "May I nail it fast, 
 Binnings?" 
 
 " Yes, nail it to the corner of the house, 
 and may it never come down while I live." 
 
 The Blue Flag was fluttering in the 
 wind, and the children were eagerly 
 watching it from the window, when Bin 
 nings called on them for their attention. 
 
 Eeverently he took down a large Bible 
 and Prayer-book from a shelf in the cor 
 ner, and laid them on the table. Slowly 
 and distinctly he read aloud the one hun 
 dred and seventh Psalm. 
 
 "Let us pray," said the deep voice of 
 the sailor, and the little group knelt down 
 together. Binnings read the Evening 
 Prayer for families in the Prayer-book ; 
 and although it was a new thing for him 
 
 Blue Flag. 4 
 
50 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 to address his Maker in the presence of 
 human beings, he forgot all earthly things 
 in his earnest desire to consecrate the 
 opening of his house to the God whom 
 he wished to serve. 
 
 "So will I, with all who shall be in 
 this house, begin and end every day/ 7 
 said Binnings, as he rose from his knees, 
 11 and may God add his blessing." 
 
A STRANGER. 51 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 A STRANGER. 
 
 IT was two years since Binnings had 
 first opened his house for men of the 
 sea, and the "Blue Flag" was now well 
 known among such sailors as wanted a 
 temporary home, where they could be 
 comfortably accommodated, free from 
 those temptations which ordinarily assail 
 "poor Jack" as soon as he sets his foot 
 on shore. 
 
 Many a hardy man had thanked God 
 for this timely shelter, and gone forth 
 again to his rough life cheered by John 
 Binnings' pledged friendship and kindly 
 counsel. We will not say how blessed 
 a stay at the "Blue Flag" had been to 
 youths who were as yet too ready to be 
 lieve the paths of sin ways of pleasant- 
 
52 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 ness, and too blind as to their certain 
 end in misery and degradation. 
 
 For sailors of this class, Binnings was 
 ever on the look-ont. The sound of noisy 
 merriment in the street was sure to draw 
 him forth to strive to win some of the 
 roysterers to a night's rest under his 
 roof, rather than to the continued revel 
 to which they were tempted. 
 
 Binnings and Gideon were sitting 
 among the group gathered around the 
 large stove in the common parlor one 
 evening. Grideon was a great help to 
 Binnings in his efforts to give the fire 
 side talk a profitable turn, and they often 
 started off in the discussion of religious 
 topics with such hearty interest, that the 
 rough tars around them would be uncon 
 sciously won to mingle in the conversa 
 tion. 
 
 " I say, Grideon, 77 said Binnings, after 
 a moment's quiet thought, " it wouldn't 
 
A STRANGER. 53 
 
 take long to convert the world, if every 
 sailor was a missionary. 77 
 
 The idea was a new one to G-ideon, and 
 his face beamed with pleased surprise as 
 he fully took it in. 
 
 "That's capital/ 7 he exclaimed; "I 
 never thought of that before. "Why, they 
 go everywhere, do n't they ; and if they 
 were real thorough -going Christians, 
 they 7 d be taking the right banner clear 
 into the midst of the heathen. 77 
 
 " Just so. There are some of them, I 
 know, who are doing that very thing, 77 
 said Binnings cheerily. 
 
 "That a 7 n 7 t the way with most of us, 
 by a long shot, 77 interrupted one of the 
 four sailors in the little circle around the 
 fire. "It 7 s a chance if heathen folks 
 do n't learn more mischief than good 
 from such chaps as 1 7 ve generally sailed 
 with." 
 
 "More 7 s the pity. But there 7 s a bet- 
 
54 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 ter time coming. Sailors are beginning 
 to understand what it is to be a high- 
 minded Christian man, who would scorn 
 to do that in a strange country that he 7 d 
 be sorry to have his mother know of. 77 
 
 Binnings was in the mood for a long 
 talk; but at that moment there was a 
 noise of hallooing near the window, that 
 at once attracted his attention. He 
 started up, exclaiming, "Come, Gideon, 
 come, messmates, have you a mind to 
 save some poor fellows from getting into 
 more mischief? Let 7 s go out. 77 
 
 Binnings stumped along, leading the 
 way ; and his little party were soon in 
 the midst of a noisy crew, who were 
 shouting and staggering as they attempt 
 ed to carry one of their companions, 
 who was so thoroughly intoxicated that 
 he was unable to take another step for 
 himself. 
 
 "Here, give us the boy in charge- 
 
A STRANGER. 55 
 
 we 7 11 give him snug quarters till the 
 morning, and then you can call and ask 
 after his health/ 7 said Binnings, going 
 up to the disorderly group. 
 
 " We'll look after him ourselves, 77 
 said one of the young sailors, accompany 
 ing his hiccoughed speech with an oath, 
 and an attempted blow at the would-be 
 friend. 
 
 "Have a care there. Look out what 
 you do, man. Binnings is my friend. 
 It 7 s Binnings of the Blue Flag. I know 
 him by his wooden pin, 77 exclaimed an 
 other of the party. 
 
 It was plain that the last speaker was 
 not in a condition to know any body 
 without some very distinguishing mark 
 of identity. Yet, half intoxicated as he 
 was, his naturally kind feelings were not 
 altogether dulled. He sidled up to Bin 
 nings, and said confidentially, "Take 
 him, Binnings. I know about the Blue 
 
56 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Flag. He's a young 'un. He can't 
 stand what we can." 
 
 Binnings, thus encouraged, persuaded 
 the stumbling, staggering fellows to yield 
 up their heavy burden ; and they gave a 
 shout of relief as Gideon and the four 
 strong sailors bore their silent companion 
 away. 
 
 On the bed in the neat, quiet " sick 
 room" of the establishment the poor 
 young sailor was laid, for the time un 
 conscious as the dead. Ah, if he had 
 passed into eternity from that state of 
 brutal intoxication, what would have 
 been the fate of his soul? 
 
 In the presence of Gideon and the 
 four friendly tars, Binnings took posses 
 sion of the lad's pocket-book, after duly 
 counting his money, and laid beside it in 
 his strong-box the few other loose arti 
 cles he had about him. Among the lat 
 ter was a daguerreotype. 
 
A STRANGER. 57 
 
 ' ' The boy 7 s sweetheart, I 7 11 bet a dol 
 lar/ 7 exclaimed one of the sailors. 
 
 "His mother, rather/' 7 said Binnings, 
 as he looked into the sweet face that 
 gazed on him from the picture. Time 
 had marked the brow with passing years, 
 but it bore no signs of harrowing grief. 
 "Poor woman/ 7 murmured Binnings as a 
 bright drop suddenly glistened in his eye, 
 "she would n't look like that if she could 
 see him now. May God bless the lad, 
 and give him true repentance. 77 
 
58 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AWAKING. 
 
 "WHO am I? Where am I?" These 
 were the questions proposed to the con 
 fused brain of the new inmate when he 
 awoke, after his long heavy sleep. 
 
 He had none of the joyousness now 
 that had made him a leader in the last 
 night's carousal. Head and heart were 
 sick. Body and soul were reaping the 
 miseries of sin. 
 
 To the first question the answer slow 
 ly came, and in its overwhelming realiza 
 tion the second was for the time for 
 gotten. 
 
 "Theodore Gould!" That was the 
 name that thrilled through the brain and 
 heart of the young sailor, a name of 
 which he had once been proud, a name 
 
AWAKING. 59 
 
 his mother had called so fondly, a name 
 his little brother had spoken as of one 
 above the common faults of men. Ah, 
 Theodore had fallen, yet God had not 
 yet deserted him ; there was one ray of 
 hope, even in his present condition. He 
 could see his degradation, he could loathe 
 himself. 
 
 With bitter, bitter loathing, he thought 
 of what he once had been, and what he 
 now was. Step by step he traced his 
 downward path. His first oath, uttered 
 timidly; the habit of profaneness that 
 had grown upon him ; his Bible deserted, 
 his Sabbaths dishonored ; and to crown 
 all, and increase the power of every temp 
 tation, the free use of that intoxicating 
 cup which promises pleasure, but surely 
 turns to poison. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections, The 
 odore heard the sound of an approaching 
 footstep. He shrank from meeting any 
 
60 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 human eye. He lay in utter silence as 
 if asleep while some one busied himself 
 about the room, adjusted the bedclothes, 
 and arranged the curtain so that the 
 broad light of day need not stream in on 
 his face. 
 
 Then there was a slight rustling, fol 
 lowed by a moment of stillness, as Grid- 
 eon knelt at the bedside. He had looked 
 at the young face of the sleeper, until 
 his heart yearned over the stranger as if 
 he had been a brother, and the deep wish 
 of his soul broke forth in prayer. 
 
 For the stranger Gideon pleaded with 
 loving earnestness, for the sake of his ab 
 sent mother. He implored that repent 
 ance might be granted him, for the sake 
 of that Friend of sinners who came to 
 seek and to save them that are lost. 
 Such prayer comes only from believing 
 hearts, which are touched with a Christ- 
 like desire to save the souls of their 
 
AWAKING. 61 
 
 brethren. As Gideon rose from his 
 knees, he looked again upon the face of 
 the sleeper. A tear was stealing from 
 under the closed lid. Gideon would not 
 speak, to learn whether he had been 
 heard or not, but silently closing the 
 door, he walked away with hope stirring 
 at his heart. 
 
THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THEODORE. 
 
 THEODORE GOULD had been for several 
 days an inmate of the "sick-room/ 7 at 
 the Blue Flag. Although he was evi 
 dently well enough to come down stairs, 
 it was plain that he was unwilling to 
 leave his retirement, and Binnings did 
 not urge him to do so. He well under 
 stood that the youth had food enough for 
 secret thought, and work to do which 
 must be done alone with God. 
 
 We will not undertake to describe the 
 agony of repentant sorrow, which for a 
 while so filled poor Theodore's mind that 
 he was deaf to every voice of comfort. 
 Humbled and stricken as he was, he at 
 last dared to hope that, through the merits 
 of a divine Saviour, even he might be 
 
THEODORE. 63 
 
 forgiven and accepted in the Beloved. 
 Binnings' straightforward way of talking 
 on religious subjects was a great help 
 to Theodore during his time of doubt 
 and darkness, and he learned to look on 
 the honest old sailor as a loved and 
 trusted friend. 
 
 Binnings came into Theodore's room 
 one morning, and found him, as usual, 
 with an open Bible in his hand. The 
 restored daguerreotype lay beside him. 
 Binnings took it up, and opening it, said 
 suddenly, "When are you going to see 
 her? We don't want to hurry you 
 away, but she must be aching for a sight 
 of you. 77 
 
 Theodore rose and gazed at himself in 
 the small looking-glass. Ah, in every 
 feature there were too plain traces of the 
 life he had been lately leading. In im 
 agination there peered over his shoulder 
 the frank, boyish face he had worn when 
 
64 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 he left home, so full of hope and self- 
 confidence. How sad the change that 
 had come over him! 
 
 "I cannot see my mother. One look 
 at me would break her heart," he ex 
 claimed. "She had better think me 
 dead, than know what I am." 
 
 "A forgiven sinner," said Binnings 
 quietly. 
 
 " Forgiven, I hope," murmured Theo 
 dore; "but Oh, still so weak and sinful, 
 so little like what I ought to be. I mean 
 well now, but who knows how soon I may 
 fall? I have lost all confidence in my 
 self." 
 
 "So much the better, so much the 
 better," exclaimed Binnings heartily. 
 "Look to your Captain to hold up your 
 right hand and strengthen your right 
 arm. He ? s able to take you safe through 
 fire and water, through men and devils, 
 temptations and afflictions, evil report 
 
THEODORE. G5 
 
 and good report. Look to your Captain 
 the Lord Jesus, Theodore ; pray to him, 
 lean on him, and trust in him, and he'll 
 bring you off conqueror." 
 
 " It will be his strength that keeps me 
 up, if I do n't fall, for I know I have no 
 power to stand temptation," said Theo 
 dore humbly and sorrowfully. 
 
 "See your mother, boy; she'll know 
 how to counsel you," said Binnings, turn 
 ing the daguerreotype towards Theodore. 
 
 Theodore gave it one long, loving look, 
 and then covering his face with his hands, 
 he exclaimed, "I cannot go to her; I 
 cannot fill her heart with sorrow. I will 
 take another voyage, and try my new 
 principles. Perhaps I may yet be a son 
 whom she will not blush to own." 
 
 It was in vain that Binnings tried to 
 combat Theodore's resolution; it could 
 not be shaken. He insisted that as he 
 had returned in a different ship from 
 
66 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 that in which he had embarked, she 
 would not hear that he had been in the 
 country ; and that it would be better that 
 she should mourn him as dead, than know 
 how miserably he had fallen. " She shall 
 not know how degraded I have been, till 
 she can be sure that I am thoroughly re 
 formed." These were Theodore's reit 
 erated words, and Binnings at last was 
 obliged to leave him to the course he had 
 chosen. 
 
BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 67 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 
 
 THROUGH the kind efforts of Binnings, 
 Theodore obtained a berth on board a 
 temperance ship with a pious captain. 
 The humbled lad was thankful now to 
 avail himself of every aid to support his 
 new resolutions, and as Binnings said, 
 was safer in his fear of doing wrong, than 
 if he was the most stout-hearted fellow in 
 the world who trusted to his own good 
 ness to keep him out of temptation. 
 
 During Theodore's stay at the Blue 
 Flag, he was the chief subject of interest 
 in the kindly household ; but now a new 
 topic for conversation had arisen, about 
 which each one had something to say. 
 
 Binnings was going on a journey. The 
 honest sailor thought it a more perilous 
 
68 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 undertaking to travel two hundred miles 
 by land, than to circumnavigate the globe 
 in a good ship, pronounced by the insur 
 ers sound from topmast to keel. Like 
 most men of the sea, Binnings had but 
 little confidence in horses, and deemed it 
 a kind of voluntary running into danger, 
 for human beings to place their precious 
 lives in the keeping of four-footed beasts. 
 And as to the lumbering stage-coach, 
 Binnings called it "a poor affair in com 
 parison with the smallest schooner that 
 ever put out from Cape Cod. 77 
 
 Yet upon the journey Binnings was 
 determined, cost him what it would. A 
 stanch old sailor had promised to take 
 his place at the head of the household 
 at the Blue Flag ; yet Binnings declared 
 that he would not have dreamed of leav 
 ing home, even for a day, if it were not 
 for the continual presence of Mrs. Coney, 
 who would not let a poor Jack Tar want 
 
. BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 69 
 
 for any thing, so long as she had a crust 
 of her own. 
 
 Jennet had packed the small black 
 travelling-bag which Binnings had bought 
 for the occasion, Gideon had helped the 
 stout owner of the Blue Flag into the 
 stage-coach, last words were over, and 
 away rolled the coach ; while Binnings 
 let his great spotted pocket-handkerchief 
 float from the window, like a signal of 
 distress. 
 
 Binnings was not a man to ride all day 
 in silence, crowded into less than nine 
 square feet, with eight living specimens 
 of his own kind. He did not mind speak 
 ing first. When a lady drew away her 
 dress, as if afraid of injuring his wood 
 en pin, "Never fear, madam, you wont 
 tread on my toes; I've room enough,' 7 
 he exclaimed cheerily; and the smile 
 which followed his remark seemed to 
 put the whole company at ease at once. 
 
70 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Of course, during the long slow drives 
 up-hill, the travellers wanted a story 
 from Binnings to while away the time ; 
 and before long he let out enough of his 
 personal history to make the passengers 
 curious to hear more; and they did hear 
 how the sick man was nursed by the 
 sailor's widow, and how the Blue Flag 
 was put up, that there might be one 
 place where a tar's earnings would be 
 safe from shore robbers, and his soul 
 from cunning tempters in human form. 
 His hearers felt what he said in their 
 hearts, and then felt in their pockets too, 
 and found their purses there, and on the 
 spot a contribution was taken up for the 
 library at the Blue Flag, that put Bin 
 nings in a humor to be well pleased with 
 landsmen for that day, at least. 
 
 Binnings was several days on his jour 
 ney. He did not travel at night, not he, 
 to look like a thief escaping from justice, 
 
BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 11 
 
 or a runaway bridegroom, as he said. 
 There was no need of his losing his 
 lawful rest, and he took it wherever he 
 found himself when evening came on. 
 He took his rest, which was more than 
 could be said of any body who was near 
 him. His great broad chest and capa 
 cious nose seemed to conspire together 
 to trumpet forth the soundness of his 
 sleep ; while now and then the over 
 weary man was moved to shout sea 
 orders in his dreams, which startled his 
 neighbors into any thing but a good hu 
 mor. Nobody, however, wanted to quar 
 rel with their fellow-traveller, the sailor 
 with the wooden leg. Binnings' warm 
 heart had made itself known in more 
 ways than one through those long days. 
 The delicate young mother remembered 
 who carried her baby when she was too 
 much worn out to hold it. The sick lady, 
 who had found the rolling of the heavy 
 
12 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 coach as trying in its effects as the 
 lurches of a ship in a storm, had not for 
 gotten who got out for her at the first 
 stopping-place, and administered a sip 
 of brandy, at the same time declaring it 
 was all the stuff was good for, to be used 
 as a medicine in desperate cases. The 
 boy-traveller, who had stored away the 
 boat and the bow that Binnings had cut 
 out for him, was willing to be waked 
 from his first nap by such a good-natured 
 friend as Binnings had proved himself 
 to be. 
 
 Faint-hearted Christians who had feared 
 to rebuke the profaneness of the rough 
 driver, could not but respect the hardy 
 sailor, who declared that he could not 
 hear his " great Captain's name spoken 
 that way, on sea or on shore, without 
 speaking his mind about it." 
 
 Binnings had not thought of making a 
 missionary tour, but he had been silently 
 
BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 73 
 
 preaching the law of charity day after 
 day, and had roused in more than one 
 heart a new interest for men of the sea. 
 More than one of his fellow-travellers 
 had parted from him, with a resolution 
 formed to do something to give the sailor 
 the gospel on board ship, and a Christian 
 home on shore. The journey had actu 
 ally proved a pleasant thing to Binnings, 
 and, for private reasons of his own, he 
 was sorry when, on Saturday evening, it 
 came to a close, as he had reached his 
 place of destination. 
 
 Binnings had no pride about appearing 
 at church in his sailor dress. He right 
 ly thought God's house open to every 
 sincere worshipper, and the state of the 
 heart of far more importance than the cut 
 of the apparel. He did not mind the 
 little boys who nudged each other and 
 giggled in the pew next him, nor did he 
 care for the young miss who tossed her 
 
74 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 head, as she was forced to take her seat 
 at his side. He was an honest man, 
 clean in his dress and right in his inten 
 tions ; and it was little to him what any 
 body thought of him, so he could join in 
 the precious words of prayer in the great 
 congregation, and hear the gospel preach 
 ed by one of God's own chosen messen 
 gers. The morning service was over, 
 but Binnings' head was still bowed in 
 private prayer; he felt that he needed 
 uncommon strength for the duty before 
 him, and he had a particular reason for 
 calling down a blessing on that congre 
 gation. 
 
 As he rose to leave his seat, the throng 
 of people was already pouring down the 
 aisle, and as he was pushed by somewhat 
 roughly, his tarpaulin was swept from 
 his hand. Stooping down was a some 
 what difficult performance for Binnings, 
 and this fact seemed at once to strike a 
 
BINNINGS' JOURNEY. 15 
 
 sweet young girl who chanced to stand 
 at his side. With the kindness of true 
 politeness, she restored the hat to its 
 owner, and with a smile of such real in 
 terest that Binnings was moved to say, 
 " Thank ye, miss, Grod bless you/ 7 from 
 the depths of his heart. 
 
76 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TIDINGS. 
 
 BINNINGS was abroad early on Mon 
 day morning. The sights and sounds of 
 the noisy hotel made him sick at heart, 
 and he longed to be out in the clear fresh 
 air, where he could have his quiet thoughts 
 to himself, and meditate in his own pe 
 culiar way. 
 
 Binnings did not give up his morning 
 walk wholly to meditation, as was evi 
 dent by the reconnoitering of a particu 
 lar house, in which he seemed to take a 
 special interest. To that house he made 
 his way, when breakfast was over, and 
 his ring at the bell was that of one who 
 was fully resolved on what he had un 
 dertaken. ' 
 
 The door was promptly opened, and 
 
TIDINGS. IT 
 
 Binnings at once inquired if he could see 
 Mrs. Gould. 
 
 The blank look of the servant sent a 
 thrill of pain through Binnings 7 very 
 heart, and he impatiently waited for the 
 reply. Could it be that Mrs. Gould was 
 no more on earth, to hear tidings of good 
 or ill? 
 
 " Mrs. Gould do n't see any body. She 
 a 7 n 7 t well. She do n 7 t see any body/ 7 was 
 the hesitating reply. 
 
 At that moment a familiar face passed 
 along the hall, even the face that had 
 called forth Binnings 7 fervent "God bless 
 you 77 the day before. 
 
 "It 7 s a sailor, miss; asking for Mrs. 
 Gould/ 7 said the servant, in answer to 
 the questioning look of the young girl. 
 
 "Come in, come in, I can see you. 
 Had you any particular message for my 
 mother? 77 The words were spoken hur 
 riedly, and in an earnest, anxious way, 
 
78 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 that plainly told to Binnings that here 
 was a true sister's heart, yearning to 
 hear of the absent one. 
 
 "Not a message exactly; he didn't 
 certainly know I was coming.' 7 
 
 " My brother!" exclaimed Ella Grould, 
 the sudden tears filling her eyes. 
 
 " Just so, miss. He couldn't make up 
 his mind to come and see you himself." 
 
 Again Binnings was interrupted, but 
 this time by an expression of anger. " In 
 this country? Theodore here, and not 
 come to see his mother! This is too 
 bad." 
 
 "Boys wont be reasoned with, you 
 know, miss. But he 's all right ; he ']] 
 be a true Christian man. I feel sure 
 of it." 
 
 The shadow swept from Ella's face, 
 and a bright look of hope took its place 
 as she exclaimed, "My mother, my dear 
 mother!" 
 
TIDINGS. 79 
 
 "The boy went wrong, miss. Sailors 
 are just shut up to temptations, you know. 
 No Sabbath, no minister, no sister's arms 
 around their necks, no mother to whisper 
 what's right to them. Poor Theodore 
 went wrong, like many a young fellow 
 before him. He said it would break his 
 mother's heart to see him looking the 
 way he did, and he 7 d take another voy 
 age, and try and come back a different 
 man. Thank God, I believe the worst 
 is over with him, and he 7 s put his trust 
 where he wont be disappointed. He 's 
 strong in the Lord, I believe in my soul. 77 
 
 Ella covered her face with her hands 
 and wept like a little child. To hear of 
 her lost brother thus! It was hard to 
 bear. He of whom she had been so 
 proud, he whom she had mourned as one 
 of the noble, cut off in the innocence of 
 his hopeful youth ! That he should have 
 been so drawn into sin that he dare not 
 
80 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 look his mother in the face ! There was 
 rising anger in Ella's heart in the midst 
 of her sisterly sorrow. Her erring broth 
 er seemed to her for the moment the en 
 emy of the dear mother who had so fond 
 ly cherished them both. How had that 
 mother's hair grown white with anxiety ; 
 and was she now to be cast down with 
 shame for her son? 
 
 Binnings was not slow in reading what 
 was passing in his hearer's mind. There 
 was an unmistakable flash in her dark 
 eye, as she raised her face from time to 
 time to ask some question, or to utter 
 some exclamation of sorrow or displeas 
 ure. 
 
 " We are all sinners, miss/ 7 said Bin 
 nings at last. "We would all go down 
 to the pit, but for the walls a merciful 
 Providence puts around us. It 7 s not our 
 own goodness that saves us. Theodore 
 stands before God this daj r , with his sins 
 
TIDINGS. 81 
 
 forgiven for the sake of the Lord Jesus ; 
 and his poor fellow-creatures might at 
 least let bygones be bygones, and take 
 him by the hand. That's my way of 
 looking at it, miss. 77 
 
 < < I forgive him from the bottom of my 
 heart, and I wish I could tell him so/ 7 
 exclaimed Ella ; "but mother, I am afraid 
 it will kill her. She has not been like 
 herself for months. It 7 s the thought of 
 Theodore that preys on her, I know, 
 though she never talks about it. You 
 would not wonder at the way I feel, if 
 you knew how changed she is. She 
 hardly notices any thing; she sits as if 
 she was in a dream. 77 
 
 "The Lord has sent her something to 
 wake her, and to bring her to her knees 
 to thank him for his mercies, 77 said Bin- 
 nings warmly. "The sooner she hears 
 the truth, the better ; that 7 s my way of 
 thinking." 
 
 Blue Flag. Q 
 
82 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right/ 7 said Ella 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 At this moment there was an inter 
 ruption to the conversation. A stout, 
 curly-headed boy burst into the room, 
 exclaiming, "I told mother there was a 
 sailor down stairs talking with you, and 
 she wants to see you this very minute. 
 I say, there she is coming herself. 77 
 
 In another instant an eager, sorrow- 
 stricken face was presented at the door. 
 Binnings made a short story this time. 
 He saw it was no occasion for slow break 
 ing of news. "Your son, ma'am, is alive 
 and well. He 7 d gone far on the road to 
 ruin ; but thank God, he 7 s turned about, 
 and is forgiven through Christ Jesus.' 7 
 
 11 Thank God! thank God! 77 were Mrs. 
 Gould's fervent words. She had no 
 room in her mother's heart for blame for 
 the offender. She could forgive him all, 
 and be thankful that he had found the 
 
TIDINGS. 83 
 
 only Rock of safety. She could even 
 pardon his turning his back on his native 
 land, without once entering the home he 
 loved so well. She knew what he must 
 have suffered, when his proud spirit was 
 humbled by the degradation into which 
 he had fallen. She appreciated the ten 
 derness which had made him unwilling 
 to let her see the face, so dear to her, 
 marred by traces of sin. The mother's 
 heart understood all, and forgave all; 
 and the fond sister felt and comprehend 
 ed that, deep as may be a sister's devo 
 tion, there fe no fount of human love 
 like that which God has hidden deep in 
 the soul of the true mother. 
 
84 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BOX. 
 
 was back at the Blue Flag, 
 going on with his duties more cheerily 
 than ever, from the consciousness of 
 having taken sunshine to one household, 
 by the journey he had planned and exe 
 cuted with so much thought. 
 
 Sunshine indeed was now pervading 
 Theodore's home. The apathy that had 
 hung over Mrs. Gould lik a pall, had 
 been broken by Binnings' blunt commu 
 nication. Mrs. Gould had rallied from 
 her long torpor to new life and energy. 
 
 She had heard every particular of 
 Theodore's stay at the Blue Flag, and 
 honest Binnings had not now a more fast 
 friend on earth than Mrs. Gould. A 
 mother's love quickened her to under- 
 
THE BOX. 85 
 
 stand the dangers that war against the 
 soul of the sailor by sea and land ; and 
 she determined to leave no means un 
 tried to induce her fellow- Christians to 
 awake to the importance of bearing the 
 blessed message of the Saviour to the 
 hardy men who have no fireside round 
 which to gather at evening, no voices of 
 childhood to call to mind the Babe of 
 Bethlehem. 
 
 To work for shipwrecked sailors had 
 become a pleasure with Mrs. Gould; 
 and while Ella and she were busy over 
 the red flannel garments, there was no 
 lack of conversation between them. The 
 odore had left Ella a pleasant child, sub 
 ject to her mother in all things, and lean 
 ing upon her for constant advice. The 
 state of mind into which Mrs. Gould for 
 a time had fallen, had changed their 
 relations, and rapid as was Ella's physi 
 cal growth, her character matured with 
 
86 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 still greater rapidity. She felt herself 
 her mother's guardian and nurse, and 
 though at times somewhat headstrong 
 and hot-tempered, Mrs. Gould believed 
 in her heart that there was not in the 
 known world a more devoted daughter 
 than her Ella. 
 
 To sustain her mother's renewed cheer 
 fulness, Ella gave full play to the natural 
 vivacity of her disposition ; and Bob 
 was heard to declare that sister Ella 
 was as funny as a story-book. 
 
 Bob had a blue flag flying from his 
 empty dog-kennel, as an indication that 
 four-legged strangers would be hospita 
 bly entertained. As yet there had been 
 no applications at his Snug Harbor, 
 though Bob stumped about with a cane 
 thrust up his trousers, and imitated hon 
 est Binnings in a way that gave him at 
 least entire satisfaction. 
 
 "Any messages for the Blue Flag? 77 
 
THE BOX. 87 
 
 inquired Master Bob, drawing up his 
 tiny express-wagon at the drawing-room 
 door. 
 
 "I shall have a box to send to-mor 
 row/ 7 said Mrs. Gould, pointing to a 
 great box, beside which Ella was kneel 
 ing while the packing went on. " Sup 
 pose you go, Bob, for the real express 
 man, and ask him to call early to-mor 
 
 row." 
 
 " My line connects with his. I'll do 
 it, ma'am, " said Bob, with a flourishing 
 bow as he withdrew. 
 . "I wish I could be there when they 
 open the box. I wonder what that smart 
 little Jennet will say. I hope the hood 
 will fit her,' 7 said Ella. 
 
 It was doubtful if more pleasure would 
 be felt when the box was unpacked at 
 the Blue Flag, than was experienced at 
 Mrs. Gould's in preparing it. 
 
 When the cover was finally nailed on, 
 
88 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 and the real expressman, with Bob's pre 
 tended assistance, bore it away, it was 
 followed by kindly thoughts and good 
 wishes that would in themselves have 
 been a valuable present. 
 
THE PRESENT. 89 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE PRESENT. 
 
 IT was not a rare thing for Binnings 
 to have a present. Many a tribute was 
 brought to him from over the sea by 
 grateful sailors, and the table at the Blue 
 Flag was furnished with many a luxury 
 for which neither Binnings nor Mrs. Co 
 ney had expended a copper. A box or 
 a barrel from on board ship was no rar 
 ity ; but a box left by a stage-coach, and 
 bearing neither sign or mark of a recent 
 voyage, was something to be wondered 
 at. 
 
 Jennet was the first to report the arri 
 val, and was equally prompt in provid 
 ing Binnings with a hatchet and wedge, 
 that she might have a peep at the inside 
 as soon as possible. 
 
90 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Mrs. Coney's motherly heart told her 
 the secret at once ; she did not need to 
 inquire who had been sending Binnings 
 a present from a far-off inland town. 
 
 A great packet of religious newspapers 
 was taken out first. Then came several 
 valuable books for the library of the Blue 
 Flag; then Jennet's hood; then a nice 
 shawl for Mrs. Coney ; then a beautiful 
 Bible for Gideon; and then a store of 
 clothing just fit for sailors' use. As these 
 last were drawn out, Binnings actually 
 clapped his hands with delight. "This 
 is what we need," he exclaimed. "Why, 
 we could fit out half a dozen poor ship 
 wrecked fellows with what there is here. 77 
 
 Binnings had admired Jennet's hood, 
 and praised the other contents of the box, 
 without apparently once thinking that, 
 although his name had been on the cover, 
 there had as yet been no special remem 
 brance for him. This fact had not es- 
 
THE PRESENT. 91 
 
 caped either Mrs. Coney or Jennet ; and 
 the latter, having perched her hood on 
 her head, was exploring the depths of 
 the box as if seeking something. 
 
 Binnings was busy looking over ap 
 provingly certain stout trowsers and 
 heavy overcoats that he held in his 
 hand, and his attention had to be forci 
 bly drawn to a small package which Jen 
 net had at length come upon in her re 
 searches. 
 
 "Here, Mr. Binnings. This has your 
 name on," she exclaimed with eagerness. 
 "I do so wonder what it is. Perhaps 
 there is a letter in it, to tell who sent the 
 box." 
 
 Binnings either had less curiosity than 
 Jennet, or he was not without suspicions 
 as to the kind hands that had packed the 
 box so full of acceptable gifts. At any 
 rate, he seemed in no hurry to open the 
 letter which the little parcel contained. 
 
92 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 It remained untouched, while he gazed 
 and gazed and gazed with moist eyes at 
 a daguerreotype which had accompanied 
 the letter. Every one about him seemed 
 to be forgotten, and there was something 
 in his manner that hushed even talkative 
 Jennet into silence. 
 
 Yes, Binnings' thoughts were wander 
 ing far from the spot where he stood. 
 Over the wide sea he was following the 
 Dolphin in her course, and earnestly 
 calling down the blessing of heaven on 
 a repentant sailor, who had indeed start 
 ed on a new voyage, with angels as his 
 well-wishers. 
 
 " There is what the poor boy was" 
 said Binnings at length, as he handed 
 the likeness quietly to Mrs. Coney. "His 
 mother wanted me to see what a son she 
 had parted with. It 7 s a splendid face. 
 God help the boy. He 7 s gone far astray ; 
 but He who has changed him can sustain 
 
THE PRESENT. 93 
 
 Mm. What says the book? 'If two of 
 you shall agree as touching any thing 
 that they shall ask, it shall be done for 
 them. 7 These are the words of the 
 faithful promise. Shall we strike hands 
 now that we'll all pray for that boy 
 every night before we sleep? He needs 
 the prayers of his friends, the poor fel 
 low." 
 
 The daguerreotype had been passed 
 from hand to hand while Binnings had 
 been speaking, and every heart was 
 touched by the sad contrast between its 
 frank boyish face, and the countenance 
 of the Theodore Grould they had known 
 in his humiliation. 
 
 There was no loud assent to Binnings 7 
 proposal; but the low, earnest, "We 
 will, 77 was a pledge of the faithful fulfil 
 ment of the agreement. 
 
 Mrs. Gould's letter was such a letter 
 as only a mother can write, welling up 
 
94 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 with tenderness for the absent one, and 
 invoking untold blessings on the house 
 hold who had received him as one rais 
 ed from the dead. Binnings had not a 
 great many earthly treasures, but he put 
 that letter and daguerreotype into his 
 strong-box, to be kept till the day of his 
 death. 
 
COMPANIONS. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 COMPANIONS. 
 
 A BLAMELESS teacher has not always 
 blameless pupils, nor is a pious captain 
 always accompanied by a pious crew. 
 
 Theodore Gould made this discovery 
 on board the temperance ship with 
 Captain Grlynn. In the forecastle there 
 were German, Italian, and American 
 sailors, all understanding enough English 
 to obey ship-orders, swear horrible oaths, 
 and try to persuade Theodore to join in 
 their games of chance, or sly drinks at 
 the various bottles smuggled into their 
 chests. 
 
 The poor boy struggled manfully 
 against their influence ; yet he had to 
 mourn many a hasty word he was 
 prompted to speak, and to see the smile 
 
96 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 of satisfaction come over their counte 
 nances as lie was unconsciously led to 
 utter oatlis while joining in their conver 
 sation. 
 
 Why is it that the wicked love to 
 draw others into the mire where they 
 are miserably wallowing? 
 
 Daily sinning and daily repenting, 
 Theodore fought against the temptations 
 that surrounded him, until he was almost 
 desperate. 
 
 One Sunday morning Theodore had 
 taken his Bible, and was striving to read 
 in the midst of the disturbance his asso 
 ciates wilfully made around him. At 
 length he laid the book suddenly down, 
 and looking at the hardy group, he said, 
 " Messmates, I am younger than any 
 of you. I believe you feel kindly tow 
 ards me, and would willingly do me a 
 favor. Will you listen while I tell you 
 a story?" 
 
COMPANIONS. 97 
 
 The captain had no work done on Sun 
 day but simply what was needed for sail 
 ing the ship, arid the crew were therefore 
 willing to while away their time in lis 
 tening to what sailors so dearly love, a 
 story. There was besides not a little 
 curiosity as to Theodore's previous life. 
 While his companions had been free to 
 tell their hairbreadth escapes and their 
 exploits in scenes of wickedness, the 
 young sailor had kept a profound silence 
 as to his own history. 
 
 Now the ice was broken. He describ 
 ed the happy boy, indulged by his kind 
 mother in his fancy for the sea. He 
 painted his departure from home, so full 
 of hope, and so strong in the sense of 
 his own hatred of what was low and 
 wicked. His downward path was faith 
 fully sketched, how faithfully some of 
 his listeners well knew. His deep deg 
 radation he did not shrink from reveal- 
 
98 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 ing, nor his horror when he woke to find 
 himself what he had once hated and 
 despised. The agony of those dark hours 
 at the Blue Flag were now first fully 
 made known to human ears the deep 
 despair of one who sees the loathsome 
 pit into which he has wilfully plunged 
 soul and body. The dawn of hope, 
 when he could first believe that even he 
 could be forgiven; the preciousness of 
 that Saviour who could so blot out the 
 past, and offer a future of blessedness; 
 the resolution formed to serve that Sav 
 iour until death : on these themes Theo 
 dore dwelt with an earnestness and sin 
 cerity that went home to every heart. 
 He spoke of his mother, that dear moth 
 er whom he so yearned to see, and yet 
 from whose loving eye he shrank away 
 as unfit for her pure glance. " I want to 
 see that mother, a changed man, one that 
 she can be willing to own as her son. I 
 
COMPANIONS. 99 
 
 want to serve the Saviour who accepted 
 my poor repentance, and gave me peace 
 when I was in the depths of misery. 
 Messmates, I want to reach that heaven 
 which is the only sure harbor. Will 
 you make me know again the bitterness 
 of one who hates and despises himself? 
 Will you make me turn my back on my 
 mother and my Saviour and heaven? 
 Oh, messmates, will you drag me down 
 to the depths of that hell whose torment 
 has no end? I am weak and wicked, 
 and easily led astray. I am afraid I 
 shall not have strength to stand out 
 against you. I feel old habits coming 
 over me again. I am horribly afraid that 
 I shall sink, sink to perdition. Wont 
 you have pity on me, and spare me your 
 temptations ?" 
 
 There was an humble, sorrowful ear 
 nestness in Theodore's tone, which told 
 how truly he was speaking from the 
 
100 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 depths of his heart, as he pleaded for 
 what was dearer to him than life. 
 
 Theodore had touched the right chord. 
 "God help you, boy. I don't want to 
 stand in your way," said a rough old tar, 
 extending his hand to the excited lad. 
 "I wish I was as far on the right track. 77 
 
 Theodore seized it with a hearty ex 
 pression of gratitude. 
 
 "Shall we join hands round, that we 11 
 let him alone?' 7 said the same sailor, turn 
 ing to the rest of the crew. 
 
 Every palm was forthcoming for the 
 pledge, and from that day forward, no 
 direct effort was made to lead Theodore 
 from the path of his choice. 
 
THE SICK-BED. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SICK-BED. 
 
 THE good ship Dolphin was leaping as 
 gaily over the waves as leaped the hearts 
 of her sailors at sight of land. The shores 
 of France were almost reached, and the 
 men were rejoicing that a time of free 
 dom was at hand a time of riot and ca- 
 rousal, a time of sinking deeper in the 
 sins which had already dragged them 
 far down on the way to ruin. 
 
 Theodore Gould had discovered to his 
 sorrow that although Captain Glynn, of 
 the ship Dolphin, was blameless as to his 
 own life, he did not dream of doing any 
 thing more than enforcing the rules of 
 morality on board his vessel. Not one 
 effort had he made to lay, in the hearts 
 of his crew, the only sure foundation of 
 
10^ THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 a virtuous life, not one effort to lead them 
 to Him who is the only hope, the only 
 safeguard, the only sanctifier of sinful 
 men. 
 
 Theodore had not suffered latterly from 
 direct attempts to draw him into tempta 
 tion, but he felt that the habits and man 
 ners of his companions were ever dim 
 ming the true light in his soul. Their 
 presence was as a cloud that hid from 
 him his best source of consolation, and 
 threatened to envelop him in darkness. 
 Welcome indeed to him was the thought 
 of being at liberty to have at least a sol 
 itary walk, when he could meditate with 
 out the sound of oaths in his ears, albeit 
 he should be a stranger in a foreign 
 land. 
 
 Theodore was not now to tread the 
 French soil. When the Dolphin cast 
 anchor, and all hands were rejoicing that 
 the harbor was safely reached, Theodore 
 
THE SICK-BED. 103 
 
 was lying upon his bed in an agony of 
 pain. A fall down the hatchway had 
 so bruised and shaken his whole frame, 
 that Captain Grlynn declared it was im 
 possible to tell where he was hurt most, 
 and there was no hope for him but to go 
 to a hospital, and be put under treat 
 ment as soon as possible. 
 
 Borne on a litter by his messmates, 
 Theodore was placed in a hospital, where 
 one among the rows of sufferers, he await 
 ed his share of attention from physicians 
 and nurses. He was but a poor, bruised 
 sailor ; he had no claims upon the special 
 tenderness or interest of any one about 
 him. 
 
 Ah, how he longed then to have his 
 mother's hand on his brow, or to hear 
 his sister Ella moving gently around his 
 couch of pain. His mother ! Should he 
 ever live to ask her forgiveness? Should 
 he ever hear her words of counsel, cheer- 
 
104 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 ing Mm on his Christian course ? These 
 were trying questions to Theodore, yet 
 again and again they recurred to him, to 
 have the same sad, doubtful answer. 
 
 Now Theodore saw and felt with bitter 
 regret, that the lingering pride of his 
 heart, as well as tenderness for his moth 
 er, had kept him from appearing before 
 her, disgraced as he was, to ask her for 
 giveness. He had shrunk from the course 
 of the repentant prodigal, hoping to re 
 turn, clad, not in the rags of sin, but in 
 the better garment of a new righteous 
 ness. 
 
 Who can tell the thoughts that try 
 the hearts of those poor sufferers, among 
 whom the hospital nurses move so calm- 
 ly? 
 
 To die alone in a foreign land, with no 
 friendly eye to shed a tear over his life 
 less body, this seemed to Theodore a 
 hard lot, but on this he did not dwell, 
 
THE SICK-BED. 105 
 
 Better thoughts stole gently over him. 
 He realized that there was One at his 
 bedside, more loving than any human 
 friend, even the merciful Saviour, who 
 had received him in his agony of repent 
 ance, and had called him his own for 
 ever. 
 
 "With no human being to turn to in 
 his time of desolation, Theodore was but 
 drawn the nearer to Him who is every 
 where present to cheer and console all 
 who truly ]ook unto him. 
 
 It was almost with disappointment that 
 Theodore heard at last, that his life was 
 no longer in danger, and that for him 
 recovery was now confidently expected. 
 He had dwelt upon death as his certain 
 portion, and safe as an infant in its moth 
 er's arms had seemed his soul in his Sav 
 iour's keeping. The battle fought, the 
 struggle over, temptation for ever hushed, 
 heaven secured through the One Media- 
 
106 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 tor these had been Theodore's glad sub 
 jects of meditation. Almost he had be 
 held the gates of the heavenly city ; yet 
 he was to turn back and risk again the 
 soul-destroying influences of earth. Con 
 scious of his own weakness, Theodore 
 shrank from new conflicts with tempta 
 tion. There came a whisper of consola 
 tion: "My grace is sufficient for thee." 
 "He who has suffered being tempted, is 
 able to succor them that are tempted. 77 
 To such promises Theodore clung as his 
 only hope. What other hope has any 
 human soul in its struggle with the pow 
 ers of evil that beset the earthly pilgrim 
 from without and from within? 
 
 "I will return to my quiet home, and 
 in some retired calling, I will try to lead 
 a blameless life. 77 This was Theodore's 
 first resolution, as he lay in the weakness 
 of slow convalescence. 
 
 As his strength rallied, and the old 
 
THE SICK-BED. 10T 
 
 vigor began to knit again Iris physical 
 frame, other thoughts took possession of 
 his mind. He would not shrink from 
 the conflict ; he would rather fight on the 
 Lord's side in the way of life that had 
 been the choice of his boyhood. Hence 
 forward he would be consecrated to his 
 Master's service, pledged to labor for the 
 advancement of his kingdom on sea and 
 land, among people of all nations, wher 
 ever the providential hand should lead 
 him. 
 
 There was an influence in this new 
 purpose that gave Theodore a new mo 
 tive to husband his returning strength, 
 and to put forth all his energy towards a 
 recovery which should make him sound 
 in body and mind, to do the work set 
 before him. 
 
 "Who better than he knew the dangers 
 and temptations of a sailor's life ? Who 
 better than he could picture the horrors 
 
108 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 of a sailor's lonely death, where no friend 
 ly voice would tell him of the love of 
 Jesus? 
 
 Yes, Theodore Gould chose anew the 
 sailor's life. There was no boyish whim, 
 there was no mere love of adventure 
 prompting him now. He had a high and 
 noble purpose to achieve. He had a 
 Master to serve who could carry him 
 safe through all temptations, and give 
 him power to plead and persuade in his 
 name. 
 
 " Launch thy bark, mariner ! 
 
 Christian, God speed thee ! 
 Let loose the rudder-band, 
 
 Good angels lead thee. 
 Set thy sails warily, 
 
 Tempests will come ; 
 Steer thy course steadily ; 
 
 Christian, steer home 1" 
 
A NEW FRIEND. 109 
 
 CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 A NEW FRIEND. 
 
 THEODORE GOULD was bound on his 
 homeward voyage. There was strength 
 again in his strong hand, and a healthful 
 glow on his cheek. There was a new 
 buoyancy in his step, and a new light in 
 his eye. He was as distrustful of him 
 self as when he put his foot on board the 
 Dolphin ; but he had learned that there 
 was a mighty One, under whose protect 
 ing power he need fear no evil. 
 
 Eager as he was to begin his good 
 work, he had as yet found no oppor 
 tunity to take the first step in the career 
 to which he was pledged. He rightly 
 thought that a stranger's first care, in the 
 midst of ungodly men, should be to show 
 in himself a faithful performance of duty, 
 
110 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 and so to win respect that they may give 
 him a hearing when he shall speak in the 
 good cause. 
 
 Theodore was busy on the deck of the 
 11 Bonnie Jean 7 ' among a group of his 
 fellow-sailors. Near at hand was Cap 
 tain Hook, talking with two of the pas 
 sengers. 
 
 "I want to go below now, mamma, 77 
 said a feeble young voice. Theodore's 
 attention was instantly caught. The 
 speaker was a pale boy, whose face alone 
 was visible as it peered from the mass of 
 blankets in which he was wrapped. As 
 he spoke, his eye met Theodore's. The 
 kindly look of the young sailor was not 
 to be mistaken. 
 
 "Let him carry me down/ 7 said the 
 sick boy, nodding his head towards The 
 odore. A word from the captain brought 
 Theodore promptly forward. He put 
 forth his strength to lift the prostrate 
 
A NEW FRIEND. Ill 
 
 figure, but it rose light as an infant 
 in his strong arms. It was long, long 
 since Theodore had had a young face so 
 close to his, and his heart yearned tow 
 ards the child who had singled him out 
 for this kindly office. Wasted indeed 
 must be the form that could be so easily 
 borne. Yet the pale face had no marks 
 of a fretful, complaining spirit. There 
 was a look of peace in the large, light 
 eyes, and the thin cheek was lovingly 
 laid on Theodore's breast. 
 
 The broad chest heaved and the strong 
 arms trembled as the last step was taken, 
 and the two reached the cabin. That 
 little helpless form had grown very dear 
 to Theodore in those few moments, and 
 he was loath to part with the loving hu 
 man thing which had so turned to him. 
 
 "Lay him on the settee there, if you 
 please/ 7 said a low, pleasant voice. The 
 tone was cheerful, and yet it told how 
 
112 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 very precious was the burden which 
 Theodore had carried. " That will do; 
 thank you ;" and the mother took a seat 
 beside the child whom she had so closely 
 followed. 
 
 "I thank you too. Wont you carry 
 me again? I like the way you hold me, 
 so strong and so kind," said the boy, 
 with an affectionate look at the young 
 sailor. 
 
 " Indeed I will. Send for Theodore 
 Gould, and I shall always like to do any 
 thing I can for you/ 7 was the hearty 
 reply. 
 
 "My name is Benny," said the child, 
 fixing his eyes upon Theodore with evi 
 dent satisfaction. 
 
 "Then I am Benny's horse, always 
 ready to give him a ride," said Theo 
 dore with a cheerful smile, as he bowed 
 a.good-by and returned to his duty on 
 deck. Theodore felt almost as if a home, 
 
A NEW FRIEND. 113 
 
 with all its sweet influences, had sprung 
 up for him in the ship where he had 
 but a few hours before felt so like a 
 stranger. 
 
 Benny did not forget his new friend's 
 name, nor his free offers to be at his 
 service. It soon became an understood 
 thing that when Benny was to be moved, 
 Theodore was to be called upon, and 
 very welcome were these interviews to 
 Theodore's affectionate heart. It .was 
 pleasant for him to have some one to be 
 useful to, some one to love once more. 
 
 Theodore had placed Benny one morn 
 ing in a sheltered spot on deck, and was 
 arranging his comforters carefully about 
 him. 
 
 "You seem very fond of children. 
 Perhaps you have brothers and sisters 
 at home/ 7 said Benny's mother with an 
 inquiring glance. 
 
 "I had a brother and sister. I hope 
 
 Blue Flag. 8 
 
114 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 they are alive/ 7 said Theodore with a 
 full heart. 
 
 "Why don't you go and see them? 77 
 eagerly inquired Benny. 
 
 U I mean to, if we get safe to land/ 7 
 was Theodore's short reply. 
 
 "I wouldn't go to sea any more, if I 
 was you. I 'd stay at home. I do n't like 
 the sea; do you?" persevered Benny. 
 
 "Yes, I love the sea, 77 said Theodore, 
 looking enthusiastically out on the roll 
 
 ing waves. 
 
 "Is that what makes you a sailor?" 
 asked Benny, as much to keep his friend 
 at his side as from any wish for a sincere 
 answer to his question. Theodore was 
 silent for a moment. Perhaps the time 
 had come for him to begin his work. 
 He spoke earnestly as he said, " I mean 
 to be a sailor, because I want to teach 
 sailors about the Lord Jesus, and per 
 suade them to follow him. 77 
 

A NEW FRIEND. 115 
 
 11 Is that it?" exclaimed Benny, with a 
 gleam of unwonted brightness. "How 
 do you do it? Shall we have church to 
 morrow? Do you preach?" 
 
 Theodore smiled sorrowfully as he 
 said, "I have not done any thing yet, 
 Benny. How do you think I had better 
 begin ?" 
 
 A new idea had taken possession of 
 the child's mind, and on that he was bent. 
 
 "Mamma, mamma, can't we have wor 
 ship to-morrow ?" he said eagerly. 
 
 "I should like it exceedingly, my son. 
 The Lord 7 s day ought to be observed 
 everywhere, on the sea as well as on 
 land. I believe one reason sailors so 
 frequently are led astray is, because 
 they lose all the blessed advantages of 
 Sunday. We must ask Captain Hook 
 about it, and see how it can be man 
 aged." 
 
 At this moment Captain Hook drew 
 
116 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 near the little group, and paused, partly 
 to give a smile to Benny, and partly to 
 afford Mr. Parker, the pale young pas 
 senger on his arm, an opportunity to 
 draw a long breath after the exercise he 
 had been taking. 
 
 "Oh, Captain Hook, we want some 
 thing of you,' 7 exclaimed Benny. " We 
 want to have worship to-morrow. May 
 we? Do say yes. 77 
 
 "I shaVt say no, 77 said Captain Hook, 
 laughing; "but where 7 s your parson? 
 1 7 m too old a sinner myself to set up for 
 a preacher Sundays. 77 
 
 "I am sorry for that, captain, 77 said 
 Mr. Parker. "I 7 ve been talking the 
 same thing over in the cabin, but there 
 is no one there who cares to assist me. 
 I am not strong enough to speak many 
 minutes in the open air, but I would not 
 lose such an opportunity to ask Grod 7 s 
 blessing on you and your crew. 77 
 
A NEW FRIEND. lit 
 
 "We need it enough/ 7 said the cap 
 tain shortly. 
 
 " Perhaps/ 7 continued the stranger, 
 " there may be some one among your 
 sailors who would do his part to help on 
 the good work. It may be that this 
 young man would read a passage of 
 Scripture for us, and give a few words of 
 exhortation. I have a tract with me that 
 would be just the thing for the occasion. 77 
 
 Theodore 7 s earnest, interested look had 
 not escaped the attention of the speaker ; 
 and he made this appeal not without hope 
 that he had found the right person for the 
 duty proposed. 
 
 "He 7 s just the one. You will, wont 
 you? 77 said Benny eagerly. 
 
 Theodore paused a moment, and then 
 said, "With Captain Hook 7 s permission, 
 I will, sir. I will gladly do what I can 
 to see the Lord 7 s day honored and made 
 profitable. 77 
 
118 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Captain Hook turned quickly to The 
 odore, and said, " You have my permis 
 sion ; but I give you warning, young man, 
 that if you take such a stand as that be 
 fore the crew, you 7 11 have to walk straight 
 enough, or they '11 overhaul you and post 
 you for a hypocrite before a week is over. 
 You may as well know what hot coals 
 you '11 have to walk on before you make 
 a beginning. 77 
 
 "I can but try to do my duty, sir; I 
 do n't believe my messmates will be hard 
 upon me, 77 said Theodore, bowing politely 
 to the captain as he retired. 
 
THE SABBATH. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE SABBATH. 
 
 THE looked-for Sabbath proved a fair, 
 calm day, when the ship moved but slow 
 ly on through the sunny air. 
 
 The call of "all hands on deck 7 ' was 
 promptly obeyed. It had been rumored 
 that a religious service was to be held at 
 Benny's request, and there was great cu 
 riosity to know how and by whom it was 
 to be conducted. "It can't be Captain 
 Hook is going to turn preacher ; practis 
 ing would suit him better, first." " Why, 
 he 7 11 swear right out, before he knows it, 
 as sure as he tries to speak off-hand. 77 
 "He 7 d better go by the book, if he ven 
 tures at all. 77 Such exclamations as these 
 were heard from the sailors as they gath 
 ered in an orderly file upon deck. 
 
120 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 A table and a chair were placed oppo 
 site to them, while Benny and his moth 
 er were comfortably established near at 
 hand. 
 
 Mr. Parker soon took his seat in the 
 place prepared for him. Mr. Parker had 
 lived for years in the knowledge that he 
 might at any time be called into the pres 
 ence of his Maker. He had learned to 
 live near to the Lord whom he was soon 
 to see, and to talk to him as one talketh 
 with a friend. 
 
 His prayer was the outward expres 
 sion of the simple, earnest wishes of his 
 heart. His rough hearers felt that it was 
 a real address to a real person, and an 
 unwonted solemnity stole over many a 
 weather-marked countenance. 
 
 Mr. Parker sat down exhausted with 
 the effort he had made, but peace was on 
 his every feature as he listened to the 
 song of praise which Mrs. Deland now 
 
THE SABBATH. 121 
 
 commenced with her own clear, sweet, 
 single voice. Deep, strong voices joined 
 with her as she went on, while Benny's 
 slender notes were heard mingling with 
 the harsher tones, as if an angel had 
 shared in that human song. 
 
 There were looks of astonishment, and 
 nudges of like meaning, as Theodore step 
 ped forward when the hymn was over. 
 He took up the Bible from the table, and 
 first read St. Luke's account of the storm 
 on the sea of Galilee, and then followed it 
 with a few faithful words of exhortation 
 from the tract that had been placed with 
 in the volume. There was courage as 
 well as modesty in Theodore's manner 
 as he began, and the wondering looks 
 changed to glances of respect as he went 
 on. It was not alone his distinct, em 
 phatic utterance, or his earnest appeal 
 ing manner, that gave effect to his read 
 ing. His silent prayers were going up 
 
122 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 with every word that he was uttering, 
 and he spoke as they only can speak who 
 are prompted by the spirit of prayer. 
 
 Theodore's work had begun. 
 
 That evening Theodore was walking 
 the deck, with Benny in his arms. The 
 child clung to him with new fondness, 
 and now seemed ready to share with 
 him his every thought. 
 
 "Did n't we have a nice meeting, The 
 odore ?" said Benny, with a bright smile 
 on his pale face. The boy did not wait 
 for an answer, but ran on as his thoughts 
 prompted him : "I like to hear you read, 
 Theodore. Your voice is just like your 
 arms, strong but tender too. You never 
 seem tired, Theodore. Your father must 
 be very proud of you. Is n't he ?" 
 
 "I have no father, Benny. Perhaps 
 it is just as well; he might not be as 
 proud of me as you think," said Theo 
 dore, sorrowfully. 
 
THE SABBATH. 123 
 
 Benny looked up questioningly, as lie 
 said, "You are very strong and well, 
 and very good, I'm sure. My father 
 would give all lie owns to have me strong 
 and well. 1 've heard him say so, and 
 he 's very rich, you know. This ship is* 
 his, and ever so many more, and I do n't 
 know how much besides ; and yet, he 
 says he would be a poor man, to see me 
 strong and hearty, like other boys. Only 
 think, he spared mamma to go away to 
 Paris with me, to see if the doctors could 
 not do something for my spine. Poor 
 papa. He staid all alone for nothing. 
 They could n't do any thing for me, and 
 so mamma has to take me back just as I 
 caine. I don't mind it for myself. I 
 am used .to it; but I wish papa had a 
 great strong son, like you. How proud 
 he would be of you. How he would love 
 you." 
 
 "Dear Benny, you make me feel very 
 
124 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 much ashamed," said Theodore, sadly. 
 "If my mother had a son just like you, 
 he would not have given her half the 
 pain that I have. Benny, a bad son is 
 far worse than a dear sufferer like you. 
 I have done very, very wrong, Benny, 
 and I am going home to ask my mother 
 to forgive me, and to tell her that I want 
 to be a good Christian sailor now, and 
 persuade every body I sail with to love 
 the Lord Jesus. Do you think she will 
 forgive me, Benny ?" 
 
 "I know she will. She can't help lov 
 ing you ;" and Benny tightened his grasp 
 round the neck of his friend. 
 
 " You see, Benny, it is not the worst 
 misfortune to be feeble like you. You 
 must remember that if you had been 
 strong and well, you might have been 
 tempted to go wrong as I have, and then, 
 Oh, how dreadfully you would have to 
 suffer, even in this world, every time you 
 
THE SABBATH. 125 
 
 thought of it. It is a sad, sad thing to 
 go contrary to all you have been taught, 
 and to sink down, down into sin." 
 
 Theodore's manner was so earnest, that 
 Benny shuddered and said, "I should not 
 want to be wicked. It makes me very 
 sorry now when I do wrong, but I do n't 
 fret about it. Mamma says we need not 
 worry about things that are gone by, if 
 we truly repent of them. She says all 
 the past is wiped out, all wiped out, for 
 the Lord Jesus' sake." 
 
 As Benny spoke, he passed his thin 
 hand across Theodore's forehead, and 
 smoothed out the deep lines that had un 
 consciously knit themselves there, as the 
 bitter memories were roused within. 
 
 " All wiped out, all washed away, for 
 the Lord Jesus' sake." This was the les 
 son which Theodore needed to learn ; and 
 Benny's simple faith made him a blessed 
 teacher of this message of mercy. 
 
126 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ALMOST HOME. 
 
 THERE were no more Sunday services 
 on board the " Bonnie Jean/ 7 no more 
 pleasant groups on deck, no more cheer 
 ful gatherings to see the sun go down in 
 a golden glory of sea and sky. 
 
 Keen winds and rolling waves were 
 buffeting the " Bonnie Jean/ 7 not speed 
 ing her on her course ; and only the ex 
 perienced sailors could keep their foot 
 ing on her rocking, heaving deck. 
 
 Benny saw but little now of his friend, 
 and yet these short interviews were very 
 precious to them both. It was a treat to 
 the poor lad to be carried for a few mo 
 ments into the fresh air, and to hear 
 Theodore tell some pleasant anecdote of 
 
ALMOST HOME. 127 
 
 Binnings of the Blue Flag, or some sweet 
 er scripture story, learned at Sunday- 
 school long ago. 
 
 These few moments of intercourse with 
 Benny were to Theodore as glimpses of 
 home, and his heart throbbed as he thought 
 that the time was drawing near when his 
 own brother's voice would be in his ears, 
 and his mother's words of forgiveness 
 might blend with a blessing on her re 
 pentant son. 
 
 Home ! Was Theodore ever to see the 
 dear faces at his distant fireside ? Was 
 he ever to tread again the loved soil of 
 his native land? 
 
 Some days had passed since Benny 
 had enjoyed even a glimpse at Theodore. 
 Ah, the sailors on board the " Bonnie 
 Jean/ 7 had now no time for tender, lov 
 ing offices to the timid and the feeble. 
 There was rougher work for their hands 
 to do, work that made the blood come, 
 
128 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 as they strove to move the ice-clad ropes, 
 and bend the ship to obey their will. 
 
 Landsmen may smile as they see tree 
 and shrub, rock and mound, taking on a 
 crystal garment, that shall shine with 
 diamond brightness when the sleet shall 
 cease to fall, the storm-wind die away, 
 and the sun come forth in its glory. 
 
 Not so with the sailor. He knows the 
 brilliant casing that holds mast and sail, 
 rope and rudder, as with a grasp of iron, 
 is for him a terrible enemy. 
 
 Captain Hook's face grew dark and 
 desperate as the ice-storm added each 
 moment new stiffness to the already rigid 
 ropes. His orders were given in a louder, 
 harsher tone, and his fearful oaths came 
 thick and fast, as he saw his men power 
 less to execute them. 
 
 The poor fellows worked on bravely, 
 though the frost was taking its keen hold 
 upon them, until feet and hands were 
 
ALMOST HOME. 129 
 
 thrilling in an agony of pain. Among 
 these faithful, unflinching laborers, The 
 odore was foremost, and untiring in his 
 efforts. As the hope of safely reaching 
 his home and his mother once more 
 grew dim, he encouraged himself with 
 the thought, that if death were to smite 
 him, he would be found at his post by 
 the stern messenger, faithful in what was 
 committed to him, even to the end. 
 
 The night was dark, and the rocky 
 shores of our unkindly coast were hidden 
 from the captain's eager, piercing eyes ; 
 yet there was a sorrowful certainty at 
 his heart, that the " Bonnie Jean" was 
 drifting towards a shore where many a 
 brave ship had gone down, mid the wild 
 shrieks of the perishing crew. 
 
 The extent of the danger was not fully 
 known in the cabin; yet enough of it 
 was guessed to call forth prayers from 
 those who had never prayed before, and 
 
130 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 to whiten with terror countenances that 
 were wont to smile amid the gay scenes 
 of worldly pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Parker and Benny and his mother 
 were wrapt in a sweet calm, in this time 
 of alarm. They had committed them 
 selves to the keeping of a merciful Sav 
 iour before daring the dangers of the sea, 
 and on Him they now calmly relied, 
 either for a safe return to earthly friends, 
 or for a sure entrance to the blessed coun 
 try where there is no more death. 
 
 Morning was breaking, and through 
 the mist the captain could see the cliffs 
 he so much dreaded. Scarcely was he 
 sure of his position, when there was a 
 shock and a crash that made the " Bonnie 
 Jean " tremble and quiver from keel to top 
 mast. She had struck. The sharp rocks 
 had crushed in her strong frame-work, 
 and she would soon be a helpless wreck. 
 
 Towards one thing Captain Hook had 
 
ALMOST HOME. 131 
 
 turned his attention when he found that 
 the ice had rendered the vessel per 
 fectly unmanageable. The strong axes 
 of the men had been plied to set the 
 boats free, and to keep them fit for ser 
 vice, and now they were instantly low 
 ered. The crew rushed forward to fill 
 them, but Captain Hook swung an axe 
 round his head to keep a clear path, 
 while Theodore conveyed the helpless 
 passengers into the boat which was first 
 to leave the ship. 
 
 "G-o down with him, Theodore. Do 
 your best to save him/ 7 said Captain 
 Hook, as Theodore passed him with Ben 
 ny in his arms. "Tell his father I was 
 true to my duty, and did my best for 
 his wife and child. 77 
 
 These were Captain Hook's words as 
 Theodore clasped Benny closer to his 
 breast and sustained Mrs. Deland's droop 
 ing form. 
 
132 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 It is not our purpose to dwell on 
 the hours of acute physical suffering and 
 agonized suspense which these poor ship 
 wrecked travellers endured before they 
 were cast upon the shore, and struggled 
 through the surging waves to the land. 
 
 We will not count the strong swim 
 mers, who vainly beat the chilling waves, 
 and went down at last to their endless 
 doom. 
 
 Ah, who more than a sailor needs 
 early to make his peace with God? 
 Whose life is edged about with so many 
 and great dangers ? Who, more than the 
 storm-tossed sailor, needs, nay, deserves 
 the landsman's loving, outstretched hand 
 to point him to the Lord Jesus, and to 
 beckon him towards the only eternal 
 harbor of safety? 
 
 Drenched, shivering, and exhausted, 
 Mrs. Deland stood upon the snow-clad 
 shore; yet her heart was glowing with 
 
ALMOST HOME. 133 
 
 thankful praise to her almighty Deliv 
 erer. 
 
 Theodore stood beside her with her 
 precious Benny clasped in his arms. 
 
 "His father has not lost him, 7 ' said 
 Mrs. D eland, looking tenderly into Ben 
 ny's pale face the thought of her own 
 possible affliction quite forgotten in the 
 remembrance of what it would have 
 been to another, thrice dearer than self. 
 
 A little band of shivering sailors stood 
 around the passengers, and urged them 
 to move on to some place of shelter. 
 
 Along the pathless shore they trod, 
 straining their eyes in the hope of spy 
 ing some poor hovel, some wayside cot 
 tage, where they could see once more the 
 firelight and feel the cheering warmth. 
 
 Theodore spoke not of the numbness 
 that seemed to press upon him like an 
 iron case. He clasped his precious 
 charge more closely, and moved steadily 
 
134 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 but silently on. There was but one voice 
 to speak in all that stricken party, and 
 that was from the weakest, and in his 
 own eyes the least of all. 
 
 "Never fear, mother, we shall get on 
 nicely now. The Lord will take care of 
 us. We shall soon come to a house. 
 Father will be so glad to see us.' 7 
 
 Benny's hopeful sentences fell with a 
 cheering influence upon his chilled lis 
 teners, and they stepped forward with 
 new courage. It would not do for hardy 
 men to be disheartened when a feeble 
 child could talk so bravely. 
 
 "Yes, let them carry you, mother; 
 that is nice ;" and Benny smiled as two 
 kindly sailors insisted upon Mrs. De- 
 land's allowing them to bear her through 
 the snow-drifts, that were blocking the 
 the way. 
 
 Dreary snow-drifts they were ; but 
 beyond them rose a blue and gilt curl- 
 
ALMOST HOME. 135 
 
 ing, upward line, that even in the dis 
 tance seemed to warm the blood and re 
 vive the energies of the weary, benumbed, 
 and almost desperate mariners. 
 
 It was a poor place indeed, that hut 
 by the sea-shore, and rough and coarse 
 were its inmates ; yet there the travellers 
 found a glowing fire and a kindly wel 
 come. There Benny's "Thank God, we 
 are safe, 7 ' was echoed by more than one 
 rude heart. 
 
136 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BINNINGS AGAIN. 
 
 11 You ought not to go out, Binnings. 77 
 
 "But I must, Mrs. Coney. 77 
 
 " You '11 certainly fall ; it 7 s as slippery 
 as glass, 77 said Jennet, with an appealing 
 look. 
 
 "No matter how slippery it is, I can 7 t 
 stay at home this morning. There 7 11 be 
 poor shipwrecked fellows coming into 
 town, who, may be, wont know where to 
 find the Blue Flag, or the hand of an 
 honest friend. I tell you, Mrs. Coney, 
 there are times when a man can 7 t think 
 about himself. The 'Bonnie Jean 7 was 
 in my mind all night, and I couldn't 
 stand it to sit here by my good fire, 
 without knowing more about those poor 
 fellows. 77 
 
BINNINGS AGAIN. 137 
 
 Binnings moved to get his shaggy coat 
 and his well-tried cane. 
 
 Jennet did not spring as usual to wait 
 upon him. She sat by, looking as much 
 as to say, "If you will go out such a day, 
 I am going to have no hand in helping 
 
 you." 
 
 When Binnings was thoroughly equip 
 ped, he playfully put up his wooden pin 
 to the fire as if to warm it, and as he saw 
 the smile he wanted on Jennet's face, 
 he said, " You 11 forgive me before I go, 
 wont you, Jennet, and wish me well? 77 
 Jennet looked anxious, but not unfor 
 giving. At that moment there was the 
 sound of a sleigh stopping at the door, 
 and immediately afterwards Gideon came 
 in, his face glowing with health and pleas 
 ure, as he said, "Oh, Binnings, I am so 
 glad I got here in time. I was sure you 
 would keep your word when you said at 
 breakfast that you should go out this 
 
138 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 morning. It is n't fit for you to take a 
 step on the pavement ; why, it 's all one 
 sheet of ice, just as it was yesterday. I 
 went as quick as I could to Jerry Bright's, 
 the old hackman, whose son you took in 
 that stormy night, when he was almost 
 frozen. It did my heart good to hear 
 the old chap talk about you. He said 
 he 'd rather lend his sleigh to you, than 
 to let it twenty times over. And so here 
 it is, all ready for you to jump in, and go 
 where you please. 
 
 "A thousand thanks to Jerry Bright, 
 and to you too, Mr. Gideon, " said Bin- 
 nings, giving his tarpaulin a swing, as he 
 bowed low. "The sleigh is the very 
 thing. May be I '11 have a chance to pay 
 you both with a good turn, one of these 
 days." 
 
 " For shame ! We are both more than 
 paid beforehand," said Grideon, warmly. 
 
 "I suppose you'll say good-by to me 
 
BINNINGS AGAIN. 139 
 
 now, Jennet," said Binnings, as lie nodded 
 his parting, and then went ont cheerily. 
 
 Binnings was not much of a "whip;" 
 but the steady old horse seemed able to 
 keep the road, while the honest sailor 
 held the reins loose in his hands, as 
 they moved slowly along. From time 
 to time, Binnings stopped to inquire for 
 news of the crew of the " Bonnie Jean ;" 
 but no one could give him satisfactory 
 answers. 
 
 Binnings was driving along the wharves 
 when a group of distressed-looking sail 
 ors at once attracted his attention. ' ' Hal 
 loo there!" he shouted at the top of his 
 voice. "Where are you bound? Here, 
 somebody hold my horse." 
 
 Binnings tumbled out of the sleigh, 
 and was among them in a few moments, 
 and shaking them by the hand as if they 
 were his dearest friends. "From the 
 ' Bonnie Jean/ I dare say. Glad to see 
 
140 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 you. Had a hard time, didn't you? 
 Thank God, you got safe through. 77 
 
 There was no resisting Binnings 7 
 hearty, sincere manner. Poor fellows 
 who had felt desolate and friendless the 
 moment before, were warmed and cheer 
 ed by his greeting. 
 
 Binnings had not done speaking when 
 a stalwart, brown-cheeked youth stepped 
 up to him and exclaimed, "It must be 
 Binnings of the Blue Flag. If it 7 s you, 
 Binnings, you 7 11 ^remember Theodore 
 Gould, 1 7 m sure. 77 
 
 " Remember Theodore Gould! May 
 I never forget him, or his mother either, 77 
 said Binnings, as he actually put both 
 arms round the neck of the astonished 
 sailor. "Why, boy, I didn 7 t know you. 
 You 7 ve grown a foot, and you are look 
 ing so well, for all what you've gone 
 through. It 7 s all right with you, Theo 
 dore. I see it. Thank God! You Ve 
 
BINNINGS AGAIN. 141 
 
 stuck by your colors. I don't need any 
 body to tell me that. 77 
 
 "My mother! 77 murmured Theodore. 
 "Can you tell me any thing of her? 77 
 
 "Well and hearty. The best woman 
 living. Heard from her last week. Turn 
 into the sleigh, and we'll go right to the 
 'Blue Flag, 7 and Mrs. Coney 7 11 know 
 how to get the chill out of you. Come 
 on, boys. You 7 ve only got to follow 
 your noses, and make a straight track 
 to the right, until you come to a house 
 where a blue flag hangs out, and you 7 11 
 get a warm dinner and a warm welcome, 
 and a warm bed too, and any thing else 
 you like but a warm toddy. We do n 7 t 
 give out such things at the Blue Flag, 
 except in special cases. Will you come 
 on? Do you think you can find the 
 way? 77 
 
 "Aye, aye, 77 responded the sailors as 
 they started off in the direction indicated. 
 
142 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 If Binnings' kindly manner needed 
 any guarantee for its sincerity, the sail 
 ors felt that they had it in Theodore's 
 evident satisfaction at meeting with his 
 cheerful friend. A man loved and trust 
 ed by Theodore Gould could be relied on. 
 
 It was a source of deep joy to Bin- 
 nings to see Theodore face to face, and 
 to learn from him that he had persevered 
 in the Christian course commenced at the 
 Blue Flag. Yet the honest sailor's joy 
 was doubled at the thought of the good 
 news in store for Theodore's mother, who 
 had so bravely borne up against anxious 
 misgivings since she had heard the glad 
 tidings of her son's repentance and new 
 resolutions. 
 
 As they drove along the streets of the 
 busy town, Theodore heard of faithful 
 Binnings 7 visit to his own dear home, 
 and tasted the sweets of reconciliation 
 even before he beheld his mother's face. 
 
BINNINGS AGAIN. 143 
 
 She had freely forgiven him all. With 
 her, the past was all wiped away. Why 
 should he doubt that the One more pure, 
 more holy, more loving, could as freely 
 blot out his transgressions, and receive 
 him to the arms of eternal mercy? 
 Blessed thoughts were these. For the 
 first time, Theodore embraced in its ful 
 ness the abundant pardon by which those 
 who are reconciled in Christ Jesus stand 
 before the throne without spot, accepted 
 in the Beloved. 
 
 Very different was Theodore's second 
 entrance at the Blue Flag from his first 
 introduction to its sheltering roof. Eeady 
 hands were outstretched to welcome him, 
 and kind hearts spoke their joy at his 
 return. He was no more a wandering 
 prodigal, but a Christian brother, saved 
 from the dangers of the sea to offer 
 thanksgivings with them who had sent 
 forth the wing of prayer to hover pro- 
 
144 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 tectingly over him in the midst of perils 
 of body and soul. 
 
 "A poor shipwrecked sailor, weary, 
 penniless, and afar from the home of 
 his childhood : 7 ' so the world would have 
 spoken of Theodore Gould. Perchance 
 the sentimental might have shed tears of 
 sorrow over his desolate condition. But 
 how felt he? How looked he to the 
 angels then? 
 
 " J y> Jy> Jy !7? "Praise, praise, 
 praise! 77 These were the strong emo 
 tions that were throbbing in Theodore's 
 heart. 
 
 He had gone forth in weakness, bare 
 ly clinging to the cross. He had re 
 turned with the peace of God filling his 
 soul to overflowing. Truly, the Blue 
 Flag was to him now a Bethel, where he 
 set up an altar, and offered anew his 
 whole being as a living, perpetual sacri 
 fice to the loving, merciful God who 
 
BINNINGS AGAIN. 145 
 
 had pardoned Ms transgressions, watched 
 over him in temptation, and brought him 
 in safety to the haven where he would be. 
 Angels could rejoice over that ship 
 wrecked sailor, who with his poor human 
 soul was joining in their eternal song of 
 praise to Father, Son, and Holy Grhost. 
 
 Blue Flag. 1 
 
146 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 
 
 WHEN Theodore had been thoroughly 
 warmed and welcomed at the Blue Flag, 
 he began to talk of starting at once to 
 go to his mother. "That wont do," said 
 Binnings, decidedly. "She couldn't 
 stand such good news coming on her at 
 once. Send her a letter, telling her 
 you Ve got in safely never a w^ord 
 about the 'Bonnie Jean/ mind you and 
 then follow it up as soon as you please. 
 She isn't the strongest woman in the 
 world, you see.' 7 
 
 "She has had a great deal to bear," 
 said Theodore, sorrowfully, as he re 
 membered how much his own course 
 must have contributed towards making 
 
AN INTERVIEW. 147 
 
 her prematurely old. " Perhaps you are 
 right, Binnings ; but I do so yearn to see 
 her once more. 77 
 
 "It's likely you do ; and you'd better 
 let Grideon go out now and take your 
 place in the stage for to-morrow morn 
 ing, to make your mind easy ; and then 
 we must fix you up a little. 77 
 
 Binnings brought out a complete sail 
 or's wardrobe, and said smiling, "It's 
 your own, Theodore, sent by your own 
 mother, to be given to somebody who 
 needed it. I reckon I could not please 
 her better than by giving it to you. 
 Every now and then comes a box from 
 her with things in it for shipwrecked 
 sailors. It seems as if her heart was 
 bound up now in doing for the tars, one 
 way or another. 77 
 
 The tears stood in Theodore's eyes as 
 he listened. He well understand how it 
 eased his mother's anxious heart to be 
 
148 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 laboring for the companions of her son 
 upon the great sea. 
 
 " There now, you look just right: a 
 sailor, a right down sailor, but all trim, 
 fit to speak to any body/ 7 said Binnings, 
 as he surveyed Theodore after he had 
 had the comfort of a thorough bath, and 
 reappeared clad in his new suit. Jennet 
 and Mrs. Coney were not as loud in their 
 praise, but their eyes spoke their ap 
 proval, and they silently thought Theo 
 dore, with his frank, fine face, as noble- 
 looking a specimen of a sailor as it had 
 ever been their good fortune to see. 
 
 Mrs. Coney always had two ears ; and 
 whatever one might be hearing close at 
 hand, the other was sure to be on the 
 watch to know if all was going right in 
 the other part of the house. Now she 
 listened a moment, and then said quick 
 ly, "Binnings, you had better go and 
 see what 's up in there. The sailors of 
 

AN INTERVIEW. 149 
 
 the ' Bonnie Jean ? seem to have come to 
 wonderfully." 
 
 There did seem to be no small stir 
 among the poor fellows, who had by this 
 time been thoroughly warmed and com 
 fortably clad at the Blue Flag. 
 
 Binnings instantly disappeared, but 
 soon came back, accompanied by a stout 
 middle-aged man, whose bearing and 
 strongly marked features pronounced 
 him a person of energy and resolution, 
 while his delicate complexion and the 
 pleasant play as of an habitual smile 
 about his mouth told of a refined and 
 loving nature, still having its sway, in 
 spite of the cares and temptations of ac 
 tive life. 
 
 "This is Theodore Grould, sir/ 7 said 
 Binnings, pointing to the young sailor, 
 with evident satisfaction. Theodore was 
 astonished at the hearty way in which his 
 hand was taken in both of the stranger's, 
 
150 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 and at the emotion that agitated his fine 
 face, as he said, 
 
 "God bless you. God bless you for 
 your care of my poor wife, and my dar 
 ling Benny.' 7 
 
 "Mr. Deland," exclaimed Theodore, 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Deland ; the man who owes 
 more to you than he ever can repay. 
 What that dear boy is to me, no words 
 can tell." 
 
 "And no wonder, sir. He isn't like 
 any body else/ 7 said Theodore, warmly. 
 "The very look of his eye does one good. 
 You don't owe me any thing, sir. What 
 I did, I did for one I loved. Is he do 
 ing well? 77 
 
 "He 7 s snug by the fireside, as cheer 
 ful and lovely as if he had not a care or 
 pain in the world. He wants to see you, 
 and begged me to ask you to come at 
 once to him. We live only five miles 
 
AN INTERVIEW. 151 
 
 from town. Will you go out with me to 
 night? Mrs. Deland says she feels she 
 has a right to you. She will not rest 
 till she sees you in her own home." 
 
 "I thank you warmly; but I must see 
 my mother before I go anywhere else/ 7 
 said Theodore, quickly. "But for Bin- 
 nings I should be on my way home at 
 once: 77 
 
 "J kept him until he sent a letter first. 
 Joy kills sometimes, you know, sir, as 
 well as trouble. I was afraid to risk his 
 going in upon them at once, 77 said Bin- 
 nings. 
 
 " Eight, very right, 77 said Mr. Deland; 
 but it was plain that some thought was 
 troubling his mind. 
 
 Mr. Deland had meant to satisfy his 
 feelings in some measure, by giving The 
 odore a golden reward ; now as the young- 
 sailor stood there before him, he felt it 
 quite impossible to offer him such gifts 
 
152 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 as had been noisily and heartily acknow 
 ledged by his messmates, in the common 
 room hard by. 
 
 Mr. Deland was puzzled. He could 
 not be satisfied with mere words as an 
 evidence of his gratitude, and yet he was 
 sure that any thing else, just now, would 
 give more pain than pleasure. 
 
 After a moment's silence, Mr. Deland 
 said warmly, "Remember, young man, 
 we have a claim upon you. You must 
 tell your mother that we will not ask her 
 to spare you from her side ; but if she 
 will come with you to us, she shall have 
 a hearty welcome. May I tell Benny 
 you promise him a visit? 77 
 
 "Certainly, sir. I long to see the 
 dear boy again. Please present my re 
 spects to Mrs. Deland, and thank her 
 for her kind invitation. 77 
 
 With another warm shake of his hand 
 Mr. Deland withdrew, dissatisfied with 
 
AN INTERVIEW. 153 
 
 his short interview. He could not say 
 what he would, he could not carry out 
 the generous desires of his heart. Beck 
 oning to Binnings to follow him, he lin 
 gered in the vestibule. 
 
 "I cannot offer that noble young fel 
 low money, 77 he said; "yet I know that 
 in his anxiety to save my Benny, he 
 saved nothing for himself. Take this 
 purse and make him comfortable. 
 
 Binnings turned away from the purse 
 as he answered, " While the Blue Flag 
 hangs out, Theodore Gould has a free 
 ticket here. I wouldn't see the boy 
 want while John Binnings had a dollar 
 in the bank. He 7 s my child, as it were ; 
 my child in the Lord. I have money 
 too, here, ready for him. His mother 
 sent it for shipwrecked sailors ; bless her 
 soul. It belongs of right to him. 77 
 
 Binnings saw Mr. D eland 's look of 
 disappointment, and hastened to add, 
 
154 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 "Give it to the sailors, sir, and that will 
 ease your mind. That will please Theo 
 dore too. May I tell him you left this to 
 help keep up the Blue Flag, that the poor 
 tars may have a Christian home to come 
 to?" 
 
 "With all my heart; and there will 
 be more to add to it. I have never half 
 done my duty for sailors. I should not 
 have found Theodore out, if Benny hadn't 
 told me of his love for the Blue Flag, and 
 all about Binnings too. In his eagerness 
 to get my wife and Benny off safely in 
 the first sled that could be rigged up, 
 Theodore did not tell them where he 
 should be when he was able to follow. I 
 have found him now though, and I do n't 
 mean to give him up. I may have some 
 way of helping him on, that he will not 
 refuse from Benny's father.' 7 
 
 " Where there 's a will, there 's a way,' 7 
 said Binnings cheerily. "He trusts you 
 
AN INTERVIEW. 155 
 
 and believes you, sir. I could see it in 
 his eye. Let him have the satisfaction 
 of enjoying your gratitude now, and do 
 what you please afterwards. That would 
 be my way. 77 
 
 " And a good way too, I believe/ 7 said 
 Mr. D eland, as with another hearty shake 
 of the hand he turned his back on the 
 Blue Flag. 
 
156 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 PRAYERS. 
 
 did not find Theodore a talk 
 ative visitor that evening at the Blue 
 Flag. It was plain that the young man's 
 thoughts were far away, and his kind host 
 did not try to draw him into unnecessary 
 conversation. Indeed, honest Binnings 
 was almost sorry he had curbed the son's 
 eager longing to go at once to his mother. 
 11 1 meant for the best," said Binnings to 
 himself, as he looked from over his news 
 paper at Theodore's thoughtful face. "No 
 doubt it will all turn out right." 
 
 This conclusion had just restored Bin- 
 riings to his usual cheerfulness, when 
 there was a thundering knock at the 
 door, which Gideon promptly answered 
 
PRAYERS. 15? 
 
 "Is this the Blue Flag? Is Binnings, 
 a one-legged man, here?" 
 
 These questions were eagerly asked 
 by a sea-worn stranger, who spoke like 
 one used to command. 
 
 "He is. Do you want to see him?" 
 was Gideon's calm reply. 
 
 Binnings by this time was at the door 
 to have a look at the new-comer. 
 
 Binnings was good at remembering 
 faces, but no associations seemed awak 
 ened as his eyes met those fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 " Binnings, I suppose?" was the stran 
 ger's word of inquiry. 
 
 "Yes, Binnings, sir," said Gideon, 
 throwing open the door that led to the 
 sailors' sitting-room, and then retiring. 
 
 The crew of the Bonnie Jean were 
 locked fast in their slumbers; so Bin 
 nings and his visitor had the room to 
 themselves. 
 
158 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 " Can I stay here to-night?" said the 
 stranger, who seemed to deal in inter- 
 rogatives. 
 
 "Yes, you can, just here on that sofa, 
 if you '11 put up with such a bed as that. 
 We are full, uncommonly full, to-night/ 7 
 said Binnings, as if the thought gave him 
 great pleasure. 
 
 " I do n't care where I lie ; I do n't 
 expect to sleep much. What I want is 
 to get rid of my old companions. They 'd 
 crowd around me like a swarm of bees, 
 if they knew where I was. Honest, kind- 
 hearted fellows too, but they do n't suit 
 me just now. I 've got things to think 
 about that they can't help me in. You 
 do n't know me, I suppose, Binnings." 
 
 "I don't, I own," was the short an 
 swer. 
 
 "Well, I'm a man who has gone 
 through about as hard a way of life, and 
 swore as many big oaths as any you 
 
PRAYERS. 159 
 
 ever saw. Look at me. Should you 
 think I was used to praying? May-be 
 not. But that 's what I 've been at, and 
 I mean to be at. 77 
 
 "You couldn't be in better business, 
 whoever you are, saint or sinner," said 
 Binnings. 
 
 " Sinner, sinner, sure enough. Why, 
 it 's as much as I can do to talk to you 
 now without swearing ; and yet I tell you 
 every oath I ever spoke lies on me now 
 like a hundred weight of lead. It's as if 
 my eyes were opened to see what I Ve 
 been doing all my life, just calling down 
 the vengeance of heaven on my wicked 
 head, that deserved it enough without 
 asking for it." 
 
 "It 's a pity that more of the swearers 
 do n't see things that way," said Binnings 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " May-be my eyes would n't have been 
 opened but for the way things fell out. 
 
160 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 You see I 'm Captain Hook of the Bon 
 nie Jean. May-be you 7 ve heard of me. 77 
 
 "I have, many a time/ 7 said Binnings 
 in surprise. 
 
 "It's likely you have heard people 
 speak well of me. I deserve it, in a cer 
 tain way. I have always looked out for 
 the interest of my owners, and kept things 
 straight aboard ship. I tell you the truth, 
 I 7 ve felt proud before now to hear folks 
 whisper, as I went along the wharves, 
 ' That 7 s Captain Hook of the Bonnie 
 Jean. 7 I knew what they meant. May 
 be they 7 d be astonished to know what he 
 thinks of himself now. You know about 
 the Bonnie Jean; I ean 7 t go over with 
 it. 1 7 d sooner have seen my right hand 
 cut off, than have lost such a vessel as 
 that, swift as a bird and sound as a top. 
 Glad enough was every soul to leave her, 
 but one young man, a passenger. He 
 would n't set foot in a boat, till every- 
 
PRAYERS. 161 
 
 body else was safe but him and myself. 
 He had no relations to mourn for him, 
 he said, and it was as easy to die on the 
 sea as on the land ; and calm as a sleep 
 ing baby's face he looked, when even an 
 old tough one like me was all in a shake. 
 We got him in the boat though, and then 
 says I to the fellows, 'Pull out/ and I 
 swore an oath I shall never forget. He 
 laid his hand on my arm, that young 
 Parker, and said, 'Don't pray that these 
 poor fellows may go to destruction ; let 
 us all pray that God will save us and 
 bring us safe to land, or else pardon our 
 sins and take us to himself, if it should 
 please him to call us now into his pres 
 ence.' Then it struck me what I had 
 been doing all my life, just praying for 
 the eternal ruin of myself and everybody 
 else. The notion stuck to me, and when 
 the boat capsized in the rollers, I thought 
 my prayer was going to be answered for 
 
 Blue Flag. 1 1 
 
162 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 myself, as it was for too many poor 
 wretches who went down before my very 
 eyes. I can see their looks of horror now. 
 I can see the awful agony in their poor 
 desperate faces. Oh, how I struggled to 
 reach the shore! I had heard Parker's 
 calm voice say, 'Lord Jesus, receive my 
 spirit, 7 as the boat went over. He knew 
 he had no strength to fight through such 
 waves as those, and he seemed to pass 
 away as sweetly as if he fell asleep. I 
 could not call on God to help me ; I had 
 prayed too many times for my own de 
 struction. Yet here I am, as miserable, 
 distressed a creature as ever saw himself 
 on the edge of the pit of darkness, and 
 knew not which way to turn.' 7 
 
 It was in vain that Binnings strove, 
 by prayer with the agitated man, and by 
 the most tender counsel, to induce him 
 to turn to the sinner's only hope. The 
 oaths that he had uttered seemed con- 
 
PRAYERS. 163 
 
 tinually ringing in his ears as so many 
 petitions for his own destruction, which 
 were too surely to be granted. "You 
 must go to sleep, Binnings, 77 said Captain 
 Hook at last. "I shall stay here and 
 walk the room, or lie down, as suits me 
 best. 77 
 
 "I am afraid you will be interrupted 
 early in the morning. We have a good 
 many of the sailors from the Bonnie 
 Jean here to-night. They turned in 
 soon after sunset, and they wont sleep 
 late to-morrow,' 7 said Binnings, as he lin 
 gered on the threshold. 
 
 " Sailors from the Bonnie Jean? 77 said 
 Captain Hook eagerly. "Is Theodore 
 Grould here? I heard he got safe to 
 land. 77 
 
 "Here, safe and sound, sitting by the 
 fire in the other part of the house. Do 
 you want to see him? 77 said Binnings. 
 
 "I 7 d rather see him than any man I 
 
164 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 know. There 7 s the real thing in him, I 
 am sure of that," was the eager answer. 
 
 Theodore was not long in obeying 
 Binnings' call. 
 
 "Captain Hook!" he exclaimed, as the 
 agitated face of the captain met his view. 
 "Oh, Captain Hook, I am so glad you 
 are in the land of the living." 
 
 There was a solemnity in Theodore's 
 manner, as he took the captain by both 
 hands, that was well understood. 
 
 "You were afraid I had lost my 
 chance, and had gone down to the de 
 struction I deserved," said the captain, 
 with an eager, questioning look. 
 
 "I was," said Theodore gravely. 
 "Thank God, you are still on this side 
 of eternity." 
 
 Binnings quietly moved away, and left 
 the captain and the young sailor togeth 
 er. They talked long and late ; and 
 when Theodore bade good-night, his 
 
PRAYERS. 165 
 
 companion's face had lost some of its 
 anxious wildness. 
 
 "I will persevere, as you say. I wont 
 give up. If so many long months had 
 to pass before a boy like you could shake 
 off the horrors of his old ways, a har 
 dened sinner like me can't expect to be 
 all right as soon as he turns his back on 
 the track he has been following so long. 
 Pray for me, boy. It will take millions 
 of prayers to balance all the times I Ve 
 called on God to cast me into that most 
 horrible pit. Pray for me. 77 
 
 Theodore did pray that night, and 
 many, many times afterwards for the 
 poor wicked man who was groping in 
 darkness towards the only source of 
 light. 
 
166 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 " PERHAPS he wont remember the 
 house. Had n't I better hang my blue 
 flag out the front window, so he can see 
 it clear down the street?" 
 
 Bob Gould was walking up and down 
 his mother's parlor in a state of eager 
 impatience, which made him most anx 
 ious to be doing something to hasten his 
 brother's arrival. 
 
 " Theodore could find the house in the 
 dark, I'll venture/ 7 said Ella, smiling at 
 Bob's proposal. "You may hang out 
 the blue flag though, if you please, as a 
 sign of welcome to sailors.' 7 
 
 It took Bob some time to hunt up his 
 treasure, and to nail it on a stick long 
 enough to reach far over the sidewalk. 
 
HOME. 167 
 
 Ella was pleased to calm in any way 
 Bob's restlessness, which she knew was 
 wearing upon her mother ; and she was 
 sorry when his task was done, for he 
 began his eager, impatient wishing that 
 Theodore would come, if he was coming, 
 for he was quite tired out with waiting. 
 
 11 There he is," exclaimed Mrs. Gould, 
 as she caught the sound of approaching 
 sleigh-bells, which had escaped the ears 
 of her children. "I know the bells. Oh, 
 Theodore." Mrs. Gould rose to go to 
 the door, but a strange faintness came 
 over her, and Ella had to support her, 
 as she stood looking eagerly towards the 
 .entrance. 
 
 It suited Bob to have the welcoming 
 to himself. He hugged and hurrahed, 
 and hurrahed and hugged, till Theodore 
 was obliged to run up the steps at last, 
 with a stout little boy hanging to his 
 neck, as if he had grown there. 
 
168 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Bob dropped off suddenly, however, at 
 the door-sill, as he saw the driver hand 
 ing out a miniature ship, full-rigged, and 
 waiting for somebody to claim it as be 
 longing to his young passenger, who had 
 brought it as his only baggage. 
 
 While Bob was doing this office, The 
 odore entered the house alone. Ah, how 
 it smote his heart to see the change his 
 absence had wrought in his mother. 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, forgive me, 77 
 he exclaimed, as he folded her in his 
 arms. 
 
 "My dear, dear son," were the only 
 words she uttered, and then her head 
 drooped upon his shoulder in a long and 
 tender embrace. 
 
 "God has been very good to me/ 7 she 
 murmured, when she raised her face to 
 look earnestly into his. "And Ella too ; 
 you do n't know what a comfort she has 
 been to me." 
 
HOME. 169 
 
 " You have done all you could to com 
 fort mother in the trouble I have caused 
 her, and how I thank you for it," said 
 Theodore, as he tenderly kissed his sis 
 ter. 
 
 /'Whose is this? where did it come 
 from?" said Bob, entering the room, with 
 the ship raised high in his hands. 
 
 "It is yours, Bob; Binnings made it 
 for you. You know Binnings, 77 said The 
 odore, with a smile. 
 
 "Know Binnings? To be sure I do." 
 
 "We all know Binnings, 77 joined in 
 Mrs. Gould, with the tears in her eyes. 
 "His is a noble work. 77 
 
 "And there is- some one I know, who 
 helps him in it. I am glad you love the 
 sailors, mother, 77 said Theodore; "they 
 need help to keep them right. 77 
 
 "I love my sailor-son, 77 said Mrs. Gould, 
 with a fond look at the tall, manly tar 
 who stood at her side. 
 
110 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 That was a blessed, happy evening at 
 Mrs. Gould's ; yet Theodore retired with 
 an anxious, thoughtful heart. 
 
 His mother's joy at his return, and the 
 clinging love with which she turned to 
 him, forgetting and forgiving all the 
 past, suggested a painful question to his 
 mind. 
 
 Ought he not to give up the path he 
 had chosen? Ought he not to stay with 
 the mother by whom he was so tenderly 
 beloved, and who had borne and suffered 
 so much for him? It cost Theodore some 
 wakeful hours of thought and earnest 
 prayer, before he could calmly form his 
 answer. His decision was taken at last. 
 Dear as was to him the path of useful 
 ness he had chosen for himself, he would 
 give it up. His mother should not lack, 
 in her old age, the sustaining arm of a 
 son. He whom she had wept as lost, 
 should be restored to her, to be her stay 
 
HOME. 171 
 
 and prop, as she went down the vale of 
 years. 
 
 Self thus conquered, Theodore could 
 fall asleep with the sweet assurance that, 
 should he know no earthly waking, his 
 last purpose would have been to keep 
 "the commandment with promise. 77 
 
 If Theodore, before his departure, had 
 been a hero to Bob, he was now looked 
 up to with a double share of veneration. 
 A brother who had seen and undergone 
 so much, was not to be viewed as an ordi 
 nary man. 
 
 Day after day had passed, and yet 
 Theodore had still something interesting 
 to tell to the eager group at the fireside. 
 Ella and Bob had heard of the wonders 
 he had seen by sea and land; but the 
 better, more important story of his inner 
 life was breathed in his mother's ear 
 alone. She had wept tears of sympathy, 
 of pity, joy, and thanksgiving, as she 
 
172 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 heard how her dear son was led along 
 the valley of humiliation until, feeling 
 himself utterly nothing, he could yet re 
 joice in his full sonship in the heavenly 
 kingdom, through the all-prevailing mer 
 its of his crucified Elder Brother. 
 
 Theodore had concealed nothing from 
 the one who loved him best. His degra 
 dation and the deep purpose of his re 
 newed life to devote himself to the work 
 of God among sailors, were alike made 
 known to her, and yet his future was 
 not named. 
 
 "When are you going to sea again, 
 Theodore?" 
 
 This question Mrs. Gould tremblingly 
 asked one morning. The fact she had 
 taken for granted ; the time alone re 
 mained uncertain. 
 
 "I have given up the sailor's life, 
 mother," was Theodore's answer. 
 
 He would not name the motive that 
 
HOME. 173 
 
 had prompted him, lest it should seem 
 like boasting of the sacrifice he had 
 made. 
 
 Why was it that Mrs. Gould, who had 
 trembled the moment before at the thought 
 of parting, now felt a shadow sweep over 
 her heart at the words of her son? 
 
 "Have you given up your noble reso 
 lution? Are you not to be the messen 
 ger of God's truth, and the faithful evi 
 dence of the power of the same, by a holy, 
 consistent life? Are you faint-hearted, 
 Theodore? Do you fear the temptations 
 of a sailor's life ?" 
 
 Quick and searching came the mother's 
 questions. 
 
 Her son had no coward, ease-loving 
 heart to shrink from a reply. He ten 
 derly put his arm about her, as he said, 
 "Dear mother, I have caused you too 
 many anxious hours to try you any more. 
 I want to be your stay and comfort. 
 
174 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 You need some one to lean on. I will 
 not leave you again. I can be useful on 
 shore, if ray heart is right. God knows 
 I do not shrink from the path of my 
 choice ; but my duty to you has the 
 highest, dearest claim. 7 ' 
 
 " I can lean on the widow's God, who 
 has hitherto sustained me. I will not 
 keep you, my son, from the path for which 
 you are specially prepared. God gave 
 you a love for the sea, that makes its 
 life of hardship a pleasure to you. He 
 has trained and fashioned you as an in 
 strument for a peculiar work. He has 
 given you the deep-seated wish and pur 
 pose to labor for his children who 'go 
 down to the sea in ships, and behold his 
 wonders in the great waters. 7 My heart 
 clings to the sailors 7 cause. I believe 
 the time will come, when every white- 
 winged ship shall be a messenger of peace 
 and a house of prayer; and when our 
 
HOME. 115 
 
 seamen shall be a self-sustaining band of 
 missionaries, living and dying among un 
 godly men and heathen nations, as a per 
 petual wonder-working proof of the power 
 of the religion of Christ. Go, my son, 
 and your mother's blessing shall be with 
 you, and your mother's prayers shall per 
 petually ascend to the God of heaven, 
 that he may make you an instrument of 
 much good to many souls. Let us 
 pray. 7 ' 
 
 Encircled by each other's loving arms, 
 the mother and son knelt down together, 
 while Mrs. Gould offered unto the Lord 
 her best earthly treasure as a free gift to 
 the cause that she loved. She cast her 
 self on the sustaining arm of the Al 
 mighty, while she consecrated to his ser 
 vice the son on whom she might have 
 leaned too fondly, if he had been left at 
 her side, that she might twine around 
 him her clinging heart-strings. 
 
116 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Who could doubt that a work so be 
 gun would be blessed and prospered? 
 Who could doubt that Theodore Gould 
 would go forth to sow the good seed, and 
 reap an abundant harvest? 
 
 
A VISIT. 117 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 A VISIT. 
 
 THEODORE was not to be allowed to 
 forget his promised visit at Mr. Deland's. 
 A letter, dictated by Benny, and written 
 by his mother's hand, came to urge the 
 prompt fulfilment of his promise. 
 
 Benny's pleading earnestness, and the 
 warm seconding of his invitation in Mrs. 
 D eland's postscript, were not to be dis 
 regarded. 
 
 Of course Mrs. Gould and Ella unself 
 ishly gave their consent. Bob would 
 have stood out stoutly for his right to be 
 within hearing of his brother's words 
 during every moment of his stay on land, 
 if Benny had been a healthy boy like 
 himself ; but the merry little fellow drew 
 his hand across his moist eyes as he 
 
 Blue Flag. 12 
 
178 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 thought of poor Benny unable to run or 
 play, and he declared at once that Theo 
 dore ought to go to him, if he had to walk 
 through snow up to his neck to reach 
 him. No such perils, however, were in 
 store for Theodore on his way to Mr. 
 Deland's. 
 
 The bright light from the drawing- 
 room windows, and the sudden ceasing 
 of the sound of the sleigh-bells, surprised 
 Theodore with the announcement that his 
 pleasant journey was over. The door 
 seemed to open of itself, as for an ex 
 pected guest, and Theodore was shaken 
 warmly by the hand and led into the 
 drawing-room before he could get over 
 the confusion of the sudden change from 
 the darkness without to the cheerful light 
 within. 
 
 Mrs. DelamTs greeting was affection 
 ate, but hasty, as if she were unwilling 
 to keep Theodore a moment from the 
 
A VISIT. 179 
 
 little arms that were outstretched tow 
 ards him. 
 
 "Dear Theodore," said Benny, as he 
 was folded close to the heart that loved 
 him so well. "Put me on the couch now ; 
 I want to look at you/ 7 he soon added; 
 then, after a long fond gaze at his friend, 
 he said triumphantly, 
 
 "My father said he should be proud 
 of just such a son as you are. He was 
 not disappointed in you, Theodore ; and 
 yet, and yet, he said he loved me best. 77 
 
 "And who would n't?" said Theodore 
 warmly. "You are worth a hundred 
 such great flesh-and-blood fellows as I 
 am. Never mind, we wont talk any 
 more about that. I want to give you 
 the books my brother Bob would send 
 you, though I told him you had a whole 
 library of your own. He said that did 
 not make any difference, so long as you 
 had n 7 t any books that Bob Grould gave 
 
180 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 you. He stuffed my pockets with them, 
 so you may put in your hands and pull 
 them out yourself.' 7 
 
 It was a pleasant task to Benny to 
 thrust his hands deep in the pockets of 
 the shaggy overcoat, to bring out, now a 
 Robinson Crusoe, then a United States 
 Speaker ; now a new Bible, then a gay 
 picture-book. Bob had expended all his 
 hoarded pocket-money, intended to pur 
 chase a suit of fireman's clothes, to buy 
 Benny's present. Bob would have felt 
 quite satisfied with his investment, if he 
 could have seen Benny's pleasure as book 
 after book was drawn out. 
 
 "Now take off your coat, Theodore, 
 and let us see you looking as if you were 
 at home," said Mrs. Deland, when the 
 unloading was fairly over. 
 
 At home Theodore certainly did feel 
 at Mr. Deland's. There was a glow of 
 kindly hospitality about the place that 
 
A VISIT. 181 
 
 had cheered many a stranger, and now no 
 means were left untried to render Theo 
 dore's visit agreeable. 
 
 The three days of his allotted stay had 
 slipped rapidly by, and there was no per 
 suading the young sailor to protract any 
 longer his absence from the mother who 
 had so unselfishly spared him from her 
 side. 
 
 "Then you will insist upon leaving us 
 to-morrow morning?" said Mr. Deland, 
 drawing his chair towards the table at 
 which Theodore was sitting. 
 
 Benny was in his father's arms, and 
 his earnest eyes silently repeated the 
 question. 
 
 "I am sorry to say that I must leave 
 you all, but I shall never forget the kind 
 ness I have received under this roof," 
 said Theodore, his face kindling with 
 feeling. 
 
 " Theodore," said Mr. Deland, evi- 
 
182 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 dently carrying out a train of thought 
 that had been in his mind, "I saw Cap 
 tain Hook to-day." 
 
 "Did you, sir? Is he quite settled on 
 the right side?" asked Theodore eagerly. 
 
 "The poor man is l faint, yet pursuing.' 
 His mind is all confusion, and he cannot 
 yet believe that one who has so taken the 
 name of God in yain, can taste his free 
 forgiveness. Yet upon one thing he is 
 determined : he will lead a different life ; 
 he will not wilfully lay up further con 
 demnation for himself. I have confi 
 dence in him. He did his best about the 
 'Bonnie Jean, 7 and I am going to give 
 him the command of a new ship, that is 
 to sail to the Mediterranean on her first 
 voyage two months from this time. He 
 wants a mate to go with him, he says, 
 who is a Christian man; one who will 
 lend his influence in his ship for the good 
 cause ; one who will be willing to gather 
 
A VISIT. 183 
 
 the men around him for prayers, and 
 teach them Sabbath hymns of praise, to 
 take the place of the coarse songs with 
 which they so often desecrate the sacred 
 day of rest. He wants some one who 
 will help him to see his own way clear 
 as a Christian ; some one who has passed 
 through hours of despair, and now tastes 
 the blessedness of a heavenly Father's 
 reconciled countenance. He wants you, 
 Theodore, as his mate. Will you go with 
 him ? Will you help the repentant man 
 in his struggles towards a better course?" 
 
 "With all my heart/ 7 said Thqodore 
 warmly, as he took Mr. D eland's offered 
 hand. "I understand you, sir, and you 
 have my deepest gratitude. 77 
 
 "The ship is named the ' Benny De- 
 land. 7 It is called after me. You will 
 like to sail in her, I know, Theodore/ 7 
 said Benny, his face lighting with one of 
 his own sweet smiles. 
 
184 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 " Indeed I shall ; and I shall try to be 
 sailing straight for the harbor where my 
 dear Benny is bound. There'll be a 
 blessing on that ship, I am sure." 
 
 "I believe there will/ 7 said Benny 
 softly. "T have asked God so many 
 times to send his Spirit to all who shall 
 sail in her, that I am sure he will. You 
 know he promises his Holy Spirit to them 
 that ask him. 77 
 
 "Yes, and we must act as well as 
 pray," said Mr. Deland. "Theodore, 
 what can I provide you with, to help 
 you in your labors for the good of the 
 crew? 77 
 
 "May I give you the whole list? 77 said 
 Theodore, with sparkling eyes. 
 
 "Yes, and let it be as long as you 
 please, 77 was the encouraging reply. 
 
 "I will begin with a great Bible, for 
 the cabin-table, open to all; then, any 
 quantity you please of Bibles, Testaments, 
 
A VISIT. 185 
 
 tracts, and good books, in any or all of 
 ihe modern languages; and if it is not 
 too much to ask, some books of travels, 
 and a set of maps pasted on bookbind 
 er's board, would be a valuable addition. 
 It would keep the fellows out of mischief 
 to have the maps to gather round. I can 
 see a cluster of them now, pointing their 
 eager fingers here and there, and tracing 
 out their wanderings to their comrades." 
 
 "Are you going to teach modern lan 
 guages French and Italian, I suppose 
 you mean?" said Benny, gravely. 
 
 " French and Italian, German, Spanish, 
 or Swedish, whatever you please ; but I 
 do n't mean to turn teacher, excepting of 
 the truth, the blessed truth, Benny. I 
 want good books to suit sailors of all na 
 tions, and landsmen too. When we come 
 into port, and have scores of visitors, we 
 wont pass round the bottle, but every 
 body who comes on board the Benny 
 
186 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Deland, shall go off with a precious little 
 book in his hand. Is n't that the way to 
 do on board your namesake ? 77 
 
 "The very way, and the right way, 77 
 said Mr. Deland, finishing the notes in 
 his memorandum-book, as he spoke. 
 
 1 ' I like the way you do every thing, The 
 odore, 77 said Benny affectionately; "you 
 enter into things with all your heart. 77 
 
 1 c You cannot think how happy it makes 
 me, Benny, to have a prospect of carry 
 ing out my favorite plans. I owe you 
 more than I can tell, Mr. Deland, 77 said 
 Theodore, earnestly. 
 
 "It makes me happy to have such 
 hints about furnishing a ship. I shall 
 not forget it hereafter. Would to God 
 that I, as an owner, had not so long neg 
 lected this matter, 77 said Mr. Deland, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Father, may I write the name in the 
 big Bible ? 77 asked Benny. 
 
A VISIT. 187 
 
 " Indeed you shall, my boy. You 
 shall do all for the Benny D eland that 
 your heart prompts you." 
 
 "Then I will see that she has plenty 
 of the best of books, and when I am gone 
 from this world, perhaps she will be sail 
 ing, sailing on, carrying the good news 
 wherever she goes. Perhaps I shall 
 meet somebody in heaven, who learned 
 the way there on board the Benny De- 
 land. Would n't that be pleasant!" 
 
 Benny's face was bright with a beau 
 tiful light as he spoke. The thought of 
 death was so familiar to him, that he 
 talked of it as cheerfully as of the com 
 ing pleasures of the morrow. 
 
 " Yes, may the Benny Deland be in 
 deed a messenger of good. May the 
 peculiar blessing of Glod rest upon her 
 captain, mates, and crew, 77 said Mr. De- 
 land, solemnly. 
 
 "Amen, 77 "Amen," "Amen. 77 
 
188 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Thrice the words were spoken, by 
 three voices, in the deep sincerity of 
 praying hearts. 
 
 So it was decided how and where The 
 odore Gould should start on his new 
 career. 
 
CONCLUSION. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 WE cannot trace Theodore Gould 
 through the various partings and reun 
 ions, the perils and escapes, the labors 
 and the blessings on these labors, which 
 were his lot during twenty years of life 
 on the sea. 
 
 We must let twice ten years slip away, 
 ere we again look in upon our friends 
 who are knit together by a common in 
 terest in the "Blue Flag," and the sail 
 ors' cause. 
 
 The spot where Jennet had stood with 
 her pitcher, and cast her first sorrowful 
 look at Binnings, was greatly changed. 
 There was no corner-pump now. The 
 steep descent where Gideon and Jennet 
 had once loved to scramble down to the 
 
 
190 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 shore in front of their mother's house, 
 was all levelled and graded. Wharves 
 had crept along the shore, until they 
 had passed Jack Coney's lot, and curved 
 around the turn in the bay beyond it. 
 
 As for the house itself, it had moved 
 away on rollers years ago, and found a 
 new resting-place in one of the suburbs 
 of the growing city. Half a dozen fam 
 ilies lived in it now, and dirty children 
 ranged their mud-pies on what had once 
 been Mrs. Coney's spotless door-step. 
 
 And was Mrs. Coney, houseless and 
 homeless, standing like a monument of 
 the past on the site of her old home 
 stead? 
 
 Ah, no. Jack Coney's lot was covered 
 by a great three -story brick building, 
 that was "-neat as wax," both outside 
 and in, from garret to cellar. There 
 Mrs. Coney found a sphere sufficiently 
 large for the exercise of her energy and 
 
CONCLUSION. 191 
 
 her kindliness, which seemed to have in 
 creased with her increasing years. Time 
 sat lightly upon her, for Christian chari 
 ty, Christian cheerfulness, and Christian 
 trust, are wonderful antidotes against the 
 ugly lines of age. Mother Coney, as the 
 sailors loved to call her, had her friends 
 and well-wishers in every part of the 
 world. 
 
 A blue flag waved as cheerily from the 
 great three-story building as it had done 
 from the humbler dwelling, and the name 
 "Binnings" over the wide doorway was 
 a standing invitation to the hundreds of 
 seamen who had learned to know and 
 love the whole-hearted old sailor. 
 
 There was no Jennet Coney now. Yet 
 there was a Jennet who said she had first 
 been related to the tars by blood, but 
 was now related to them by marriage. 
 She had her own Jack on the sea to 
 think about on stormy nights, and to 
 
192 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 pray for through the long day, a fact 
 that made her none the less active and 
 loving as an assistant in the good work 
 to which her mother was devoted. 
 
 Grideon had his hands full too ; he was 
 one moment in the office posting his 
 books, the next at the market buying 
 provisions, and the next in the sick 
 room, where some poor sufferer was 
 blessing the hour when in his afflictions 
 he had found a home at the Blue Flag. 
 
 But where was Binnings? It is sunset 
 now, and we may not look for him on 
 land one moment after the sun dips be 
 hind the western sky. Lying at anchor, 
 a stone's throw from the Blue Flag, is an 
 odd-looking craft. She is neither ship, 
 schooner, nor brig, sloop, bark, nor 
 steamer; she carries neither mast nor 
 smoke-pipe, sail nor banner; yet she is 
 dearer to many an honest tar than the 
 vessel in which he took his first voyage, 
 
CONCLUSION. 193 
 
 or that which he now commands. There 
 are associations hovering about her which 
 link him to the better haven he hopes to 
 reach, when he has done with the buffet- 
 ings of time and stands safe on the 
 Shining Shore. 
 
 A floating " House of Prayer: 77 this 
 was the name Binnings had given it, and 
 it was as dear to him now as the Blue 
 Flag that still fluttered its welcome to 
 the men of the sea. 
 
 On the stern of the odd-looking thing 
 was Binnings 7 favorite seat at evening. 
 There we may find him counting his 
 mercies, numberless in his eyes as the 
 shining crests of the little waves that are 
 coming up to be tipped by the sunset 
 glow. There is a dip of oars, and a 
 boat darts to the side of the " House of 
 Prayer. 77 
 
 A tall sun-burnt man springs on board, 
 and, " Binnings! 7 ' " Captain Gould!" are 
 
 Blue Flag. 1 3 
 
194 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 exclaimed by the two at their joyous 
 meeting. 
 
 Many times had Binnings and Theo 
 dore Gould met, since Captain Hook had 
 gone rejoicing to his last home, and the 
 Benny Deland had fallen to the care of 
 his highly prized mate. They had met 
 to strengthen each other's hands, and 
 encourage each others hearts, in the 
 good work to which they were both 
 pledged. 
 
 Binnings dearly loved a talk with Cap 
 tain Grould, and the easy swinging motion 
 of the anchored craft seemed to assist 
 the flow of their conversation. He de 
 clared that he had always hated the stiff 
 feeling of a still floor under his feet, and 
 it was a comfort to tread every evening 
 a living thing, that could dance on the 
 waves as cheerily as a mermaid. 
 
 " How is Bob getting on with the sail 
 ors?" was Captain Gould's first question, 
 
CONCLUSION. 195 
 
 after he had taken the seat that had been 
 offered him. 
 
 "The Eev. Eobert Gould is just the 
 man for us," said Binnings heartily. " I 
 call him Bob too, sometimes ; I can't help 
 it. But when he gets up there in the 
 pulpit, he seems like another man -just as 
 kind, just as free, but so solemn, as sol 
 emn as if he had seen the Lord face to 
 face, like Moses. He knows how to deal 
 with sailors. As sure as any body gets 
 sleepy, and the poor fellows do nod some 
 times, then Master Bob comes out with 
 something unexpected, one of his sudden 
 sayings, that wakes them right up at 
 once; and then he's down with a real 
 searcher, that takes hold of them and 
 keeps them awake body and soul. Per 
 haps he calls out, "All hands on deck!" 
 and then, when every body has started 
 up to listen, he'll tell them about the 
 great Captain summoning every man of 
 
196 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 them to do His will ; and then turn all 
 at once to the day when there shall be 
 another call, from the awful trumpet, and 
 the dead shall stand before the great 
 White Throne. I've seen the hardest 
 old fellows shed tears like a child, when 
 he talks to them about the love of Jesus. 
 It seems as if he got close to their hearts, 
 and waked up all there is tender in them. 
 He has an uncommon gift for preaching 
 to sailors. It's queer, Captain Grould, 
 how your family love the seafaring folks, 
 and care for them, each in a particular 
 way. There 's nobody like your mother 
 and your sister for remembering what we 
 want at the Blue Flag, excepting, may 
 be, Mrs. Deland. Her whole soul seems 
 to be gone to doing good, ever since that 
 dear boy died." 
 
 "Dear Benny," said Captain Gould, 
 with a springing tear. "He 's a spur to 
 all of us to remember our heavenly call- 
 
CONCLUSION. 19t 
 
 ing, and work for our Master while we 
 can. I feel sure the precious child's 
 prayers have called down a double bless 
 ing on the Benny Deland. I 've good 
 news to tell you from my men. We have 
 had the Lord with us in the ship; and 
 when these poor fellows cried, ' Save, or 
 we perish,' he heard them and blessed 
 them with his grace, saying, ' Peace, be 
 still.' The Benny Deland has been a 
 'house of prayer' too, Binnings, and I 
 hope to be herg at communion next Sun 
 day, with six as sincere beginners in the 
 Christian course as I have ever known." 
 " Do this in remembrance of me, 77 said 
 Binnings, solemnly. "How many years 
 it was before even good folks thought 
 that sailors needed to keep that com 
 mand, as well as any body else. The 
 dear Lord Jesus is bringing all right. 
 May he soon come in his glory, to claim 
 the 'abundance of the sea' as his own." 
 
198 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 Captain Gould gave a hearty response 
 to Binnings 7 pious ejaculation. After 
 some further chat, he took the honest 
 old sailor by the hand, and bade him 
 good-evening, and was away over the 
 water to his own good ship. 
 
 Binnings followed the little boat with 
 loving eyes, and then said aloud, " Just 
 like himself; humble to take orders from 
 his heavenly Master, and firm to give 
 orders to his men ; free to take the Lord's 
 forgiveness for his own sips, and just as 
 free to spread the good news to all he 
 meets, to the unthankful as well as to 
 the grateful, sinner; a good captain, a 
 good Christian, a good, faithful, hard 
 working, heaven-blessed friend of the 
 sailor. May the Lord reward him a 
 hundred-fold. 77 
 
 Binnings had his own quiet room, 
 where he could act as a guardian to the 
 vessel so precious to him, and at the 
 
CONCLUSION. 199 
 
 same time be rocked to sleep by the mo 
 tion which pleased him best. His hour 
 for retiring was now drawing near, and 
 this thought led him into a train of char 
 acteristic meditations. "It 7 s a tender 
 little mercy from the hand of the Lord, 
 who cares for us in our least mercies as 
 in our greatest, to let an old fellow like 
 me have his whim gratified, and lie down 
 to rest like a sailor. How wonderful too, 
 that he should let me be helping on the 
 sailors 7 cause, in spite of my bodily in 
 firmity! 7 ' 
 
 This recalling of Binnings 7 " bodily 
 infirmity, 77 set him to tracing the gentle 
 leading of Providence, that had guided 
 him along his earthly path, and allowed 
 him to start a good work that should live 
 on when its founder was no more. "The 
 Blue Flag will wave when I am gone, 
 and the House of Prayer will float when 
 I am sleeping low. Mr. D eland and the 
 
200 THE BLUE FLAG. 
 
 good men who have joined with him will 
 see to that. The Lord himself will take 
 care of his own cause, even as he has 
 taken care of poor Binnings, and filled 
 his heart with thanksgiving." 
 
 Such thoughts lingered in Binnings 7 
 mind till sleep stole gently over him, 
 bringing dreams of the heavenly king 
 dom where he soon should rejoice in 
 glory. 
 
 The quiet night hung over the floating 
 House of Prayer, and darkness wrap 
 ped the Blue Flag ; but the best Friend 
 of the sailor was watching over all with 
 a sleepless eye. The almighty arm was 
 stretched out to save on the great deep, 
 and to preserve on the land. His loving 
 guardianship is ever on sea and shore, 
 and his blessing descending on all who 
 labor to bring home the lost sheep to the 
 heavenly fold.