been a just but kind man, and so I throw myself on your
mercy."

The captain and Miguel exchanged astonished glances.

"I know you'll do it, captain," Robert went on in his most winning
tones, "because, as I've just said, you've always been a kind man,
especially kind to me. I suppose when I first signed with you that I
was as ignorant and awkward a land lubber as you ever saw. But your
patient teaching has made me a real sailor. Release me now, and I
think that in a few hours I will be fit to go to work again."

"Cut the lashings, Miguel," said the captain.

Miguel's sharp knife quickly severed them, and Robert sat up in the
bunk. When the blood began to flow freely in the veins, cut off
hitherto, he felt stinging pains at first, but presently heavenly
relief came. The captain and Miguel stood looking at him.

"Peter," said the captain, "you were always a lad of spirit, and I'm
glad to get you back, particularly as we have such a long voyage ahead
of us. One doesn't go to the coast of Africa, gather a cargo of slaves
and get back in a day."

In spite of himself Robert could not repress a shudder of horror. A
slaver and he a prisoner on board her! He might be gone a year or
more. Never was a lad in worse case, but somewhere in him was a spark
of hope that refused to be extinguished. He gave a more imperious
summons than ever to his will, and it returned to his aid.

"You've been kind to Peter Smith. Few captains would forgive what I've
done, but I'll try to make it up to you. How long are we out from New
York?" he said.

"It might be an hour or it might be a day or what's more likely it
might be two days. You see, Peter, a lad who gets a crack on the head
like yours lies still and asleep for a long time. Besides, it don't
make any difference to you how long we've been out. So, just you stay
in your bunk a little while longer, and Miguel will bring you
something to eat and drink."

"Thank you, captain. You're almost a father to me."

"That's a good lad, Peter. I am your father, I'm the father of all my
crew, and don't forget that a father sometimes has to punish his
children, so just you stay in your bunk till you're bid to come out of
it."

"Thank you, captain. I wouldn't think of disobeying you. Besides, I'm
too weak to move yet."

The captain and Miguel went out, and Robert heard them fastening the
door on the outside. Then the darkness shut him in again, and he lay
back in his bunk. The spark of hop