Robert shivered mentally.  He divined the plan of this villain, who would send him in the icy rigging to sure death.  He, an untrained sailor, could not keep his footing there in a storm, and it could be said that it was an accident, as it would be in the fulfilment though not in the intent.  But he divined something else that stopped the mental shudder and that gave him renewed hope.  Why should the captain threaten him with a belaying pin if he did not stay in the cook’s galley for two days?  To Robert’s mind but one reason appeared, and it was the fear that he should be seen on deck.  And that fear existed because they were yet close to land.  It was all so clear to him that he never doubted and again his heart leaped.  He was bareheaded, but he touched the place where his cap brim should have been and replied: 

“I’ll remember, captain.”

“See that you do,” said the man in level tones, instinct nevertheless with hardness and cruelty.

Robert touched his forehead again and turned away with Miguel, descending to the cook’s galley, resolved upon some daring trial, he did not yet know what.  Here the Portuguese set him to work at once, scouring pots and kettles and pans, and he toiled without complaint until his arms ached.  Miguel at last began to talk.  He seemed to suffer from the lack of companionship, and Robert divined that he was the only Portuguese on board.

“Good helper, you Peter,” he said.  “It no light job to cook for twenty men, and all of them hungry all the time.”

“Have we our full crew on board, Miguel?”

“Yes, twenty men and four more, and plenty guns, plenty powder and ball.  Fine cannon, too.”

Robert judged that the slaver would be well armed and well manned, but he decided to ask no more questions at present, fearing to arouse the suspicions of Miguel, and he worked on with shut lips.  The Portuguese himself talked—­it seemed that he had to do so, as the longing for companionship overcame him—­but he did not tell the name of the schooner or its captain.  He merely chattered of former voyages and of the ports he had been in, invariably addressing his helper as Peter, and speaking of him as if he had been his comrade.

Robert, while apparently absorbed in his tasks, listened attentively to all that he might hear from above He knew that the fog was as thick as ever, and that the ship was merely moving up and down with the swells.  She might be anchored in comparatively shallow water.  Now he was absolutely sure that they were somewhere near the coast, and the coast meant hope and a chance.

Dinner, rude but plentiful, was served for the sailors and food somewhat more delicate for the captain in his cabin.

Robert himself attended to the captain, and he could see enough now to know that the dark had come.  He inferred there would be no objection to his going upon deck in the night, but he made no such suggestion.  Instead he waited upon the tall man with a care and deftness that made that somber master grin.