was gone, and then it seemed to him that he
was cut off absolutely from all the life that he had lived. Tayoga,
Willet, Master Jacobus, all the good friends of his youth had
disappeared over the horizon with the lost land.

It had been so sudden, so complete that it seemed to him it must have
been done with a purpose. To what end had he been wrenched away from the
war and sent upon the unknown ocean? His wilderness had been that of the
woods and not of the waters. He had imbibed much of Tayoga's philosophy
and at times, at least, he believed that everything moved forward to an
appointed end. What was it now?

He left the low rail at last, and finding a stool sat down upon the
deck. The schooner was going almost due south, and she was making great
speed. The slaver's boast that she could run away from anything too
strong for her was probably true, and Robert judged also that she
carried plenty of arms besides the eighteen-pounder. Most of the crew
seemed to him to be foreigners, that is, they were chiefly of the races
around the Mediterranean. Dark of complexion, short and broad, some of
them wore earrings, and, without exception, they carried dirks and now
and then both pistols and dirks in their belts. He sought among them for
the face of one who might be a friend, but found none. They were all
hardened and sinister, and he believed that at the best they were
smugglers, at the worst pirates.

A heavy dark fellow whom Robert took to be a Spaniard was mate and
directed the task of working the vessel, the captain himself taking no
part in the commands, but casting an occasional keen glance at the
sailors as he strolled about. Robert judged that he was an expert sailor
and a leader of men. In truth, he had never doubted his ability from the
first, only his scruples, or, rather, he felt sure that he had none at
all.

The policy of ignoring the prisoner, evidently by order, was carried out
by the men. For all save the captain he did not exist, apparently, and
the slaver himself took no further notice of him for several hours.
Then, continuing his old vein, he spoke to him lightly, as if he were a
guest rather than a captive.

"I see that you're improving in both mind and body, Peter," he said.
"You've a splendid color in your cheeks and you look fine and hearty.
The sea air is good for anybody and it's better for you to be here than
in a town like Albany."

"Since I'm here," said Robert, "I'll enjoy myself as much as