Robert admitted the fact.

"And I'd be delighted if we could meet a French sloop of about our own
size and armament," continued the captain. "Every man on board the
_Hawk_ would go into battle with her eagerly, and yet I don't hate the
French individually. They're a brave and gallant nation, and this St.
Luc, of whom you speak, seems to be the very flower of chivalry."

The captain's wish to meet a French sloop of war of his own size was not
granted. He had high hopes the fourth day when they saw a sail, but it
proved to be a schooner out of Newport returning from Jamaica with a
cargo of sugar and molasses. The _Hawk_ showed her heels in disgust, and
pursued her way northward.

As the time to reach Boston drew near, Robert's heart filled again. He
would be back in his own land, and his world would be before him once
more. He had already decided that he would go at once to Albany and
there pick up the thread of his old life. He was consumed, too, by
curiosity. What had happened since he was gone? His feeling that he had
been in the island eight or nine years instead of eight or nine months
remained. While it was his own world to which he was returning, it was
also a new world.

Came the day when the harbor lights of the port of Boston showed through
a haze and Robert, standing on the deck of the _Hawk_, watched the city
rise out of the sea. He was dressed in a good suit of civilian clothing
that he had found on the island, and he had some money that had never
been taken from him when he was kidnapped, enough to pay his way from
Boston to Albany. His kindly English friends wanted to lend him more,