It was very late, when he went down to the captain's cabin, ate a little more food and turned in. He soon slept, but not needing sleep much now, he awoke at dawn. His awakening may have been hastened by the footsteps and voices he heard, but in any event he rose softly and buckled on his sword and pistols. One of the voices, high and sharp, he recognized, and he believed that once more he was the child of good fortune, because he had been awakened in time.
He sat on the couch, facing the door, put the sword by his side and held one of the pistols, cocked and resting on his knee. The footsteps and voices came nearer, and then the keen, cruel face appeared at the door.
"Good morning, captain," said Robert, equably. "You left me in command of the ship and I did my best with her. I couldn't keep her afloat, and so I ran her up here on the beach, where, as you see, she is still habitable."
"You're a good seaman, Peter," said the captain, hiding any surprise that he may have felt, "but you haven't obeyed my orders in full. I expected you to keep the ship afloat, and you haven't done so."
"That was too much to expect. I see that you have two men with you. Tell them to step forward where I can cover them as well as you with the muzzle of this pistol. That's right. Now, I'm going to confide in you."
"Go ahead, Peter."
"I haven't liked your manner for a long time, captain. I'm only Peter Smith, a humble seaman, but since you left me in command of the ship last night I mean to keep the place, with all the responsibilities, duties and honors appertaining to it. Take your hands away from your belt. This is a lone coast, and I'm the law, the judge and the executioner. Now, you and the two men back away from the door, and as sure as there's a God in Heaven, if any one of you tries to draw a weapon I'll shoot him. You'll observe that I've two pistols and also a sword. A sailor engaged in a hazardous trade like ours, catching and selling slaves, usually learns how to use firearms, but I'm pretty good with the sword, too, captain, though I've hid the knowledge from you before. Now, just kindly back into the cook's galley there, and you and your comrades make up a good big bag of food for me. I'll tell you what to choose. I warn you a second time to keep your hands away from your belt. I'll really have to shoot off a finger or two as a warning, if you don't restrain your murderous instincts. Murder is always a bad trade, captain. Put in some of those hard biscuits, and some of the cured meats. No, none of the liquors, I have no use for them. By the way, what became of Miguel, with whom I worked so often?"
"He's drowned," replied the captain.
"I'm sorry," said Robert, and he meant it. Miguel was the only one on board the slaver who had shown a ray of human sympathy.
"What do you mean to do?" asked the captain, his face contorted with rage and chagrin.