They were all hardened and sinister, and he believed that at the best they were smugglers, at the worst pirates.
A heavy dark fellow whom Robert took to be a Spaniard was mate and directed the task of working the vessel, the captain himself taking no part in the commands, but casting an occasional keen glance at the sailors as he strolled about.

Robert judged that he was an expert sailor and a leader of men.

In truth, he had never doubted his ability from the first, only his scruples, or, rather, he felt sure that he had none at all.
The policy of ignoring the prisoner, evidently by order, was carried out by the men.

For all save the captain he did not exist, apparently, and the slaver himself took no further notice of him for several hours.
Then, continuing his old vein, he spoke to him lightly, as if he were a guest rather than a captive.
"I see that you're improving in both mind and body, Peter," he said.
"You've a splendid color in your cheeks and you look fine and hearty.
The sea air is good for anybody and it's better for you to be here than in a town like Albany." "Since I'm here," said Robert, "I'll enjoy myself as much as I can.

I always try to make the best of everything." "That's philosophical, and 'tis a surprisingly good policy for one so young." Robert looked at him closely.