g unclean, something that exhaled
the foul odor of the pit. The man had become wholly evil, and he shrank
away.

"Steady, Peter," said the slaver. "Why shouldn't you rejoice with the
happy lads on yon ship? Think of your pleasant fortune to witness such a
play in the West Indian seas, the merry sailormen dancing to the music
in the moonlight, the ship sailing on without care, and we in our
schooner bearing down on 'em to secure our rightful share in the
festival. Ah, Peter, we must go on board, you and I and Carlos and more
stout fellows and sing and dance with 'em!"

Robert drew back again. It may have been partly the effect of the
moonlight, and partly the mirror of his own mind through which he
looked, but the captain's face had become wholly that of a demon. The
close-set eyes seemed to draw closer together than ever, and they were
flashing. His hand, sinewy and strong, settled upon the butt of a pistol
in his belt, but, in a moment, he raised it again and took the glasses
from Robert. After a long look he exclaimed:

"They dream on! They fiddle and dance with their whole souls, Peter, my
lad, and such trusting natures shall be rewarded!"

Robert could see very well now without the aid of the glasses. The
sailor who sat on a coil of rope with his back against a mast, playing
the violin, was an old man, his head bare, his long white hair flying.
It was yet too far away for his face to be disclosed, but Robert knew
that his expression must be rapt, because his attitude showed that his
soul was in his music. The two young sailors, with their arms about the
shoulders of each other, were still dancing, and two more had joined
them.

The crowd of spectators had thickened. Evidently it was a ship with a
numerous crew, perhaps a rich merchantman out of Bristol or Boston. No
flag was flying over her. That, however, was not unusual in those seas,
and in times of war when a man waited to see the colors of his neighbor
before showing his own. But Robert was surprised at the laxity of
discipline on the stranger. They should be up and watching, inquiring
into the nature of the schooner that was drawing so near.

"And now, Peter," said the captain, more exultant than ever, "you shall
see an unveiling! It is not often given to a lad like you, a landsman,
to behold such a dramatic act at sea, a scene so powerful and complete
that it might have been devised by one of the great Elizabethans! Ho,
Carlos, make ready!"

He gave