Rows of breakers opening their strong teeth for the
ship might stretch between, but better the breakers than the slaver's
deck and the man hunt in the slimy African lagoons. For him the icy
wind was the breath of life, and he soon ceased to shiver. But he
became conscious of chattering teeth near him and he saw Miguel, his
face a reproduction of terror in all its aspects.
"We go!" shouted the Portuguese. "The storm drive the ship on the
breakers and she break to pieces, and all of us lost!"
Robert's fantastic spirit was again strong upon him.
"Then let us go!" he shouted back. "Better this clean, cold coast than
the fever swamps of Africa! Hold fast, Miguel, and we'll ride in
together!"
The superstitious awe of the Portuguese deepened, and he drew away
from Robert. In the moment of terrible storm and approaching death
this could be no mortal youth who showed not fear, but instead a joy
that was near to exaltation. Then and there he was convinced that when
they had seized him and brought him aboard they had made their own
doom certain.
"In twenty minutes, we strike!" cried Miguel. "Ah, how the wind rise!
Many a year since I see such a storm!"
Spars snapped and were carried away in the foaming sea.
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