Derry laughed a sorrowful, derisive laugh, and then said almost fiercely, "You don't know me, lad. It would chill your very blood to know what I've done, and where I've been. There are spots on me that nothing can wash out. I've grown into it, boy. It's my life. I'm hard and tough, soul and body. There's no making me over. I'm spoiled in the grain. I tell you it's too late. I a'n't a father for her to know. I can't be made into one. That a'n't what I came here to talk about. Will you write my letter, that's the question?"
"Certainly I will write for you in the way that seems to me the best. But, Derry, 'there is a fountain opened for sin and all uncleanness.' 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.' 'If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature; old things have passed away.' 'With God all things are possible.' 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'"
As Blair spoke these words, he fixed his earnest eyes on the sailor's face, and seemed pleading for his very soul.
"There is a look about you like her, like her up there," said Derry, almost trembling. "I see her face in the dark night when I'm on the watch, and her eyes speak to me just as yours do—Oh, so pleading. Hush! There's some one coming. Write the letter as if it was one of your own. They wont hector you now. I've taught 'em better manners. Let me see 'em touch a hair of your head, and I'll finish 'em quick."
As Derry spoke, he gave a thrust with his clenched fist as at an imaginary enemy. The eyes that had lately been softened into tenderness had their old fierce twinkle, and his hard features settled into their fixed expression of determined daring.
The men gave place as he forced his way up the hatchway. On he went, stamping along the deck as if he ground an enemy beneath his heel at every step.