CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST EFFORT.
"I've broken my jack-knife," said the yellow-headed, yellow-faced tar who rejoiced in the nickname of Brimstone.

The speech was accompanied by an oath that chilled the very soul of Blair Robertson; but it was the morning after the watch which had so changed his views towards his wild associates, and he at once seized the opportunity to begin his new line of conduct.
Blair had a large many-bladed Sheffield knife, which had been a present to his father from an English captain.

For several years it was hoarded as a special treasure, and then on a Christmas-day found its way into the pocket of the only son.

Blair knew the worth and temper of every blade, and its fit and appointed use.

Not a boy in Fairport had such a knife, as had been acknowledged on all hands.