Robert undressed, crept into his
bunk, which was not over two feet wide, and slept soundly until
morning. After midnight the violence of the storm abated. It was still
snowing, but Captain Van Zouten unfurled his sails, made for the
middle of the river, and, when the sun came up over the eastern hills,
the sloop was tearing along at a great rate for New York.
So when Robert awoke and heard the groaning of timbers and the creak
of cordage he knew at once that they were under way and he was
glad. The events of the night before passed rapidly through his mind,
but they seemed vague and indistinct. At first he thought the vision
of St. Luc on the cliff in the storm was but a dream, and he had to
make an effort of the will to convince himself that it was
reality. But everything came back presently, as vivid as it had been
when it occurred, and rising he dressed and went on deck. Tayoga and
Willet were already there.
"Sluggard," said the Onondaga. "The French warships would capture you
while you are still in the land of dreams."
"We'll find no French warships in the Hudson," retorted Robert, "and
as for sluggards, how long have you been on deck yourself, Tayoga?"
"Two minutes, but much may happen in two minutes.
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