I can. I
always try to make the best of everything."

"That's philosophical, and 'tis a surprisingly good policy for one so
young."

Robert looked at him closely. His accent was that of an educated man,
and he did not speak ungrammatically.

"I've never heard your name, captain," he said, "and as you know mine, I
ought to know yours."

"We needn't mind about that now. Three-fourths of my men don't know my
name, just calling me 'Captain.' And, at any rate, if I were to give it
to you it wouldn't be the right one."

"I suspected as much. People who change their names usually do so for
good reasons."

Color came into the man's sun-browned cheeks.

"You're a bold lad, Peter," he said, "but I'll admit you're telling the
truth. I rather fancy you in some ways. If I felt sure of you I might
take you with me on a voyage that will not be without profit, instead of
selling you to a plantation in the Indies. But to go with me I must have
your absolute faith, and you must agree to share in all our perils and
achievements."

His meaning was quite plain, and might have tempted many another,
thinking, in any event, to use it as a plan for escape, but Robert never
faltered for a moment. His own instincts were always for the right, and
long comradeship with Willet and Tayoga made his will to obey those
instincts all the stronger.

"Thank you, Captain," he replied, "but I judge that your cruises are all
outside the law, and I cannot go with you on them, at least, not
willingly."

The slaver shrugged his shoulder.

"'Tis just as well that you declined," he said. "'Twas but a passing
whim of mine, and ten minutes later I'd have been sorry for it had you
accepted."

He shrugged his shoulders again, took a turn about the deck and then
went down to his cabin. Robert, notified by a sailor, the first man on
the schooner outside of the slaver to speak to him, ate supper with him
there. The food was good, but the captain was now silent, speaking only
a few times, and mostly in monosyllables. Near the end he said:

"You're to sleep in the room you've been occupying. The door will not be
bolted on you, but I don't think you'll leave the ship. The nearest land
is sixty or seventy miles away, and that's a long swim."

"I won't chance it," said Robert. "Just now I prefer solid timber
beneath my feet."

"A wise decision, Peter."

After supper the slaver went about his duties, whatever they were, and
Robert, utterly free so far as