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.

“First, I’ll see that you finish filling that bag as I direct.  Put in the packages yourself.  I like to watch you work, captain, it’s good for you, and after you fill the bag and pass it to me I’m going to hand the ship back to you.  I’ve never really liked her, and I mean to resign the command.  I think Peter Smith is fit for better things.”

“So, you intend to leave the schooner?”

“Yes, but you won’t see me do it.  Pass me the bag now.  Be careful with your hands.  In truth, I think you’d better raise them above your head, and your comrades can do the same.  Quick, up with them, or I shoot!  That’s right.  Now, I’ll back away.  I’m going up the ladder backward, and when I go out I intend to shove in place the grating that covers the entrance to the deck there.  You can escape in five minutes, of course, but by that time I’ll be off the ship and among the bushes out of your reach.  Oh, I know it’s humiliating, captain, but you’ve had your way a long time, and the slaver’s trade is not a nice one.  The ghosts of the blacks whom you have caused to die must haunt you some time, captain, and since your schooner is lost you’ll now have a chance to turn to a better business.  For the last time I tell you to be careful with your hands.  A sailor man would miss his fingers.”

He backed cautiously until his heels touched the ladder, meanwhile watching the eyes of the man.  He knew that the captain was consumed with rage, but angry and reckless as he was he would not dare to reach for a weapon of his own, while the pistol confronting him was held with such a steady hand.  He also listened for sounds made by other men on the ship, but heard none.  Then he began to back slowly up the stairway, continuing his running address.

“I know that your arms must be growing weary, captain,” he said, and he enjoyed it as he said it, “but you won’t have to keep ’em up much longer.  Two more steps will take me out upon the deck, and then you’ll be free to do as you please.”