His aspect made an appeal to Robert's sense of humor, even in those tense moments.
"My judgment tells me, Miguel," he shouted--he was compelled to raise his voice to a high pitch owing to the tremendous clatter overhead--"that there is a great storm, and the schooner is in danger! And you know, too, that your old comrade, Peter Smith, who has sailed the seas with you so long, is likely to be right in his opinions!" The gaze of Miguel became less wild, but he looked at Robert with awe and then with superstition.
"You have brought us bad luck," he exclaimed.

"An evil day for us when you came aboard." Robert laughed.

A fanciful humor seized him.
"But this is my place," he said.

"I, Peter Smith, belong on board this schooner and you know, Miguel, that you and the captain insisted on my coming back." "We go on deck!" cried the cook, now thoroughly alarmed by the uproar, which always increased.

He rushed up the ladder and Robert followed him, to be blown completely off his feet when he reached the deck.