acter of the
schooner was more than doubtful, and he might be able, in some way, yet
unsuggested, to say so to any new ship that came.

But the surface of the sea, so far as their own particular circle of it
was concerned, was untroubled by any keel save their own. It was as lone
and desolate as if they were the first vessel to come there. They fell
into a calm and the schooner rocked in low swells but made no progress.
The sun shone down, brassy and hot, and Robert, standing upon the deck,
looked at the sails flapping idly above. Although it carried him farther
and farther away from all for which he cared, he wished that the wind
would rise. Nothing was more tedious than to hang there upon the surface
of the languid ocean. The slaver read his face.

"You want us to go on," he said, "and so do I. For once we are in
agreement. I'd like to make a port that I know of much sooner than I
shall. The war has brought privateersmen into these seas, and there are
other craft that any ship can give a wide berth."

"If the privateer should be British, or out of one of our American ports
why should you fear her?" asked Robert.

"I'm answering no such questions except to say that in some parts of the
world you're safer alone, and this is one of the parts."

The dead calm lasted two days and two nights, and it was like forever to
Robert. When the breeze came at last, and the sails began to fill, new
life flowed into his own veins, and hope came back. Better any kind of
action than none at all, and he drew long breaths of relief when the
schooner once more left her trailing wake in the blue sea. The wind blew
straight and strong for a day and night, then shifted and a long period
of tacking followed. It was very wearisome, but Robert, clinging to his
resolution, made the best of it. He even joined in some of the labor,
helping to polish the metal work, especially the eighteen-pounder in the
stern, a fine bronze gun. The men tolerated him, but when he tried to
talk with them he found that most of them had little or no English, and
he made scant progress with them in that particular. The big first mate,
Carlos, rebuffed him repeatedly, but he persisted, and in time the
rebuffs became less brusque. He also noticed a certain softening of the
sailors toward him. His own charm of manner was so great that it was
hard to resist it when it was continuously exerted, and sailors, like
other men, appreciate help when it is given to them contin