uced to relent in his
plan, whatever it was? But his hope fell the next moment, when the
slaver said:

"Though I tell you, Peter, I'm going to stick to my task. You'll be
handed over to the plantation, whatever comes. After that, it's for
others to watch you, and I rather hope you'll get the better of 'em."

The storm predicted by the slaver arrived within six hours, and it was a
fearful thing. It came roaring down upon them, and the wind blew with
such frightful violence that Robert did not see how they could live
through it, but live they did. Both the captain and mate revealed great
seamanship, and the schooner was handled so well and behaved so
handsomely that she drove through it without losing a stick.

When the hurricane passed on the sea resumed its usual blue color, and,
the dead, heavy heat gone, the air was keen and fresh. Robert, although
he did not suffer from seasickness, had been made dizzy by the storm,
and he felt intense relief when it was over.

"You'll observe, Peter," said the slaver, "that we're coming into
regions of violence both on land and sea. You've heard many a tale of
the West Indies. Well, they're all true, whatever they are, earthquakes,
hurricanes, smugglers, pirates, wild Englishmen, Frenchmen, Americans,
Spaniards, Portuguese, deeds by night that the day won't own, and the
prize for the strongest. It's a great life, Peter, for those that can
live it."

The close-set eyes flashed, and the nostrils dilated. Despite the
apparent liking that the slaver had shown for him, Robert never doubted
his character. Here was a man to whom the violent contrasts and violent
life of the West Indian seas appealed. He wondered what was the present
mission of the schooner, and he thought of the bronze eighteen-pounder,
and of the dirks and pistols in the belts of the crew.

"I prefer the north," he said. "It's cooler there and people are more
nearly even, in temper and life."

"Your life there has been in peril many times from the Indians."

"That's true, but I understand the Indians. Those who are my friends are
my friends, and those who are my enemies are my enemies. I take it that
in the West Indies you never know what change is coming."

"Correct, Peter, but it's all a matter of temperament. You like what you
like, because you're made that way, and you can't alter it, but the West
Indies have seen rare deeds. Did you ever hear of Morgan, the great
buccaneer?"

"Who hasn't?"

"There was a