He had stopped in the port of New York and had then put out to sea.

Doubtless he had done so without any trouble.

He was having his revenge in measure full and heaped over.
Robert was bound to admit it, but he bore in mind that his own life was still in his body.

He would never give up, he would never allow himself to be crushed.
He stood upon the bunk and put his eyes to the porthole, catching a view of blue water below and blue sky above, and the sea as it raced past showed that the vessel was moving swiftly.

He heard, too, the hum of the strong wind in the rigging and the groaning timbers.