The Last Cruise of the Spitfire: or, Luke Foster's Strange Voyage

A NARROW ESCAPE

By the time the sun went down we were well out of sight of land. Here the breeze was even stronger; and at last several of the sailors prevailed upon the man at the wheel to send down word to the captain that sail must be shortened.

Lowell came on deck with the captain, and both had been drinking heavily.

"Shorten sail!" roared the captain. "Not a bit of it. If the mast goes, let her go."

Nevertheless, the wind soon freshened so much that several of the sails were reefed. I watched the performance from the bow.

"Here you, why don't you get to work?" cried Lowell savagely, as he came forward.

"I don't know what to do," I replied quietly.

"Don't know what to do? You're too lazy to do anything. Get aloft there!"

"Where?"

"There."

He pointed up to one of the masts. I looked in the direction indicated.

As I did so he caught me by the waist.

"I'll teach you to hit me!" he hissed.

"Here, hold up!" I cried, in alarm.

"Shut up!"

He placed one of his brawny hands over my mouth, thus endeavoring to silence me, but with an effort I cast the hand aside.

"Let me go!"

"I'll let you go when I'm done with you!" he whispered.

He was evidently in a very ugly mood, and I saw that he did not intend to treat me with any show of gentleness. Nevertheless, I was hardly prepared for what followed.

Once again he placed his hand over my mouth, and this time, in spite of my struggles, he managed to keep it there. Then he gradually forced me close to the rail.

In vain I tried to break away from him. He exerted all of his strength, and being but a boy, I was no match for him. In another moment he had me hard against the rail.

I endeavored to turn my head to see if our struggle was not noticed by some of the others. But Lowell kept my eyes turned seaward, and now he caught me about the arms and the waist.

"I'll fix you!" he went on, with a hiccough. "I'll teach you to hit me!"

"Let – let me go!" I managed to gasp.

"Oh, I'll let you go!" he went on, sarcastically. "I'll let you go quicker than you expect, you imp! How do you like that, eh?"

And the next instant he had hurled me bodily over the side. I went spinning through the air, and then fell with a splash into the waters of Long Island Sound!

Lowell's attack had been so unexpected that I hardly had time to realize what was taking place, and did nothing to stop the catastrophe.

But once in the water I regained my presence of mind. I reached the surface as soon as possible, and then shouted lustily for help.

By this time the Spitfire had gone on a considerable distance ahead, and as the wind was blowing little short of a gale, I was doubtful if my voice could be heard. Nevertheless I continued to call for assistance, and at the same time did all in my power to keep afloat.

This would have been an easy matter had I not been weighed down by any clothes. But the shirt and trousers I wore were heavy, and once soaked with water they felt like lead. I tried to get them off and also to unloosen my shoes; but, as is usual in such cases, succeeded in doing neither.

At the same time I watched the Spitfire and was not a little alarmed to see that the vessel was still forging ahead. Was it possible that those on board were going to leave me behind?

It certainly seemed so, and for a few moments I was thoroughly alarmed. I was out of sight of land, and the darkness of night was fast approaching.

As I moved about in an endeavor to rid myself of some of my clothing, my arm came in contact with something which proved to be a short spar. I grasped it at once, and its buoyancy helped greatly to keep me afloat.

By this time the Spitfire was far ahead, and I had about concluded that I had seen the last of her. I noticed that some of the sails were lowered, and finally that the schooner swung around and began to tack back.

It took some time for the old craft to come within hailing distance, and once or twice she stopped, as if those on board were about to give up the search.

But finally she tacked to my right, and I raised my voice to the top of its power.

"Help! Help!"

For a moment no answer was returned, and I repeated the cry.

"Ahoy! I see you!" was the answer.

Five minutes more and the schooner was alongside. A rope was thrown over, and, thoroughly exhausted, I crawled on board.

"You rascal!" roared Captain Hannock. "Thought you could escape that way, did you? I had half a mind to let you go to Davy Jones's locker!"

And he shook his fist at me savagely.

At these words I was almost too dumfounded to speak. Did he really imagine I had jumped overboard?

"What do you mean?" I gasped. "I didn't go over on purpose. Lowell pitched me over."

"What's that?" thundered the boatswain. "That's the biggest whopper I ever heard in my life."

"It's the truth."

"Stuff and nonsense," cried the captain. "Lowell seems to worry you altogether too much. Go forward, and don't you try any more such monkey tricks again, or I'll take the rope's end over you myself!"

And Captain Hannock advanced upon me so savagely that I was glad enough to retreat.

I went down into the forecastle, and here Tony Dibble, a hand, managed to hunt me up some dry clothing. While I was putting it on the old sailor stood by, and presently said:

"I'm afraid you're going to have a hard time of it, my lad. I was thinking Lowell pushed you over, though he stood by it that you had fallen. I saw you just as you reached the water and I flung a stick after you, thinking it might keep you afloat."

"And it did," I replied. "If it hadn't been for that I might have been at the bottom by this time."

"The old man didn't want to turn back at first when he heard you were overboard," went on the old sailor. "He said it was bad luck."

"You don't mean to say he would have let me go to the bottom!" I cried.

"That's it; and me and Goller and Sampson wouldn't have it, and told him so, and then he turned back."

"I shall never forget what you have done for me," said I. And I never have to this day.

With dry clothes on I went on deck with the old sailor. Lowell did not come near me, and I saw nothing of him until the next day.

CHAPTER XI

CAPTAIN HANNOCK'S PLOT

The sky was overcast, and Dibble said that a storm was brewing.

"Will it be a bad one?"

"I can't say. Sometimes a little storm outside is a bad one in the Sound, and then again it's just the opposite. I remember six years ago, sailing from Boston to Norwalk that we struck a little storm that didn't look like more than a puff of wind, and yet when we were done with it we hadn't any main-topmast worth speaking of."

"I should like to see a real storm," I said.

The old sailor shook his head.

"They're nicer to sit by a good fire and read about than to be in. You never know what to expect. Besides the Spitfire's best days are over."

Presently I saw the captain and Lowell go below together. I was satisfied that they intended to talk matters over, especially when, a little later, Crocker was called to join them.

If only I could hear what was said, both about myself and about the plan to be carried out! By hook or by crook I must get within hearing distance.

Presently Phil Jones came up the companionway to throw something over the side. I immediately approached him.

"Say, Phil, do you want to do me a favor?"

"Certainly I do," replied the cabin boy readily. "I'm always ready to do a favor for any one who stands up before Lowell."

And Phil Jones gave a grin.

In a few words I told him what I wanted, stating that I wished to hear whatever the trio in the cabin had to say about me.

"Tell you what I'll do," said he. "I'll take you down to the pantry. There is a door there that connects with the cabin, and by looking through the keyhole you can see all that is going on, and hear everything, too."

This just suited me, and under pretext of getting something to eat, I went aft with him, and was soon within the pantry he had mentioned.

It was not a large place, and I had some difficulty in turning about in it without knocking down the dishes that it contained. But at last I felt that I was in a good position, and then after making me promise not to tell who had let me in if I was discovered, Phil Jones closed the door and left me to myself.

At first I could see and hear but little, but as I grew accustomed to the place I discovered the captain, Lowell and Crocker seated around the cabin table, drinking.

"It's going to be a stormy night, and no mistake," remarked Crocker, as he helped himself to some more of the liquor that stood on the table.

"Guess you're right," said Lowell. "If it's bad enough we might let the old tub go down here without going any further."

Captain Hannock shook his head.

"It won't do," he said. "We want her to sink in deep water where the insurance people can't find her. You must remember that a good part of the cargo is bogus, and if that was ever found out we wouldn't get a penny."

"How far do you calculate to sail?" asked Lowell.

"I've been thinking I'd better wait till we're about three days out from Cape Cod. We can sail a little north of the regular track, and so have things all our own way."

"Don't go too far," said Crocker. "Remember we've got to get back. Money won't do us any good if we lose our lives on the ocean."

"Don't get chicken-hearted!" cried the captain angrily.

"I ain't chicken-hearted," replied Crocker. "But what's the use of taking too much risk?"

"I ain't going to risk being sent to prison for ten years or more," cried Captain Hannock, in a rising voice. "If you – "

"Hush, not so loud," put in Lowell. "We don't want any of the others to know of what's going on. If they did they'd make short work of the three of us."

"Now don't you get afraid, Lowell. Reckon your row with that boy has taken the nerve out of you."

Lowell muttered something under his breath.

"I'll fix him yet," he said.

"Don't do it so openly," said Captain Hannock. "If you do, those who see it may get you into trouble."

"Leave me to manage the affair."

This last remark was followed by a brief spell of silence. What I had heard interested me greatly. These three men were plotting the destruction of the Spitfire with a view of getting the insurance on the vessel and her cargo. How it was to be done I did not know, but I surmised that they intended to either sink the vessel or burn her up; perhaps they intended to try both.

While I was yet thinking over what I had heard, and wondering what was to follow, there came a loud knock on the cabin door, and Tony Dibble appeared.

"Excuse me, Captain, but the storm is coming up fast from the southeast," he said, touching his cap.

"Confound you and the storm!" howled Captain Hannock.

"It's getting ready for a heavy blow," added Dibble. "We all thought we ought to tell you."

"Get to the deck! I know my business. I'll be up when it's necessary."

"Yes, sir."

Touching his hat again Dibble withdrew. The captain brought his fist down on the table with a bang.

"Dibble knows too much!" he cried. "I wish we had left him behind."

"He's a good sailor," put in Lowell. "Maybe the storm is a bad one."

"Don't croak, Lowell; I know my business."

By this time the glasses were empty, and the three men filled them up again.

I was considerably alarmed by what Tony Dibble had said. I was sure he would not have spoken had there not been good cause. If I had not been so interested in what was going on in the cabin I would have gone on deck at once.

Yet what followed enchained my attention so deeply that I was glad I remained.

"Say, Lowell, did you read the letter you took from the lad?" asked the captain, after he had drained his glass.

"I glanced over it," was the reply. "I didn't have time to read it through."

"Well, there's a surprise in it."

"What is it?" asked Lowell; and eagerly I bent forward to catch what might follow.

"The boy is Felix Stillwell's nephew."

"What!"

"It is a fact. You could have knocked me down with a feather," said the captain. "How he should come on board the Spitfire is the strangest thing I ever heard of."

"I reckon Stillwell would be mightily surprised if he knew his nephew was with us," observed Lowell.

"And I reckon you'd treated the lad differently if you'd known who he was."

And Captain Hannock gave a loud laugh.

This bit of conversation puzzled me not a little. What did these men know about my uncle? Could it be possible that he had anything to do with the Spitfire?

I knew that he occasionally made a venture in lumber from down East. On one occasion I knew him to invest several thousand dollars in a raft from Maine, although whether it paid or not I never found out.

I had always believed my uncle straightforward and honest, but now, since receiving the letter from England, my confidence in him was shaken. He had not treated me rightly, and this being so, who knew where his wrongdoing ended?

"It don't make a bit of difference if he is the president's son," replied Lowell savagely. "I won't allow any boy to square up to me. And besides, Felix Stillwell is no great friend of mine."

"Nor of me, for the matter of that," said the captain. "But still, we must keep on the right side of him. Remember he has us where the hair is short."

"When do I get my pay?" spoke up Crocker, who was fast becoming the worse for liquor.

"That will be safe, never fear," said the captain, as he staggered to his feet, "only remember to keep a mum tongue in your head. If any one hears of our plans they may blow us sky high."

"I'm all right: only – What was that?"

As Crocker asked the last question all sprang to their feet in alarm.

I could have answered the question with ease. My position had become too cramped for me, and I had tried to change it. In doing so I dislodged several dishes from the rack, and they fell with a crash to the pantry floor.

"Some one's spying on us!" cried the captain. "Lowell, see who it is!"

CHAPTER XII

THE STORM

I was greatly alarmed at Captain Hannock's order to Lowell to investigate the cause of the crash in the pantry. If discovered I knew my punishment would be severe. These three men were playing a desperate game, and there was no telling what they would do if cornered.

"Oh, it was only a few dishes in the closet," said Lowell, as he helped himself to more liquor.

"It gave me quite a shock," declared Crocker, and he, too, took another drink.

These remarks relieved me somewhat. Perhaps they would not search the pantry after all. But the next words of the captain caused a chill to run down my back.

"I've lived in this cabin going on sixteen years," he said, "and I never yet knew them dishes to jump themselves down. I'm going to see what it was. If it's a spy I'll string him up, mark my words!"

I was now flat on the pantry floor, and to move would cause quite a noise. What was I to do? It did not become necessary for me to decide the question. The elements did it for me.

For at that moment the schooner gave a fearful lurch, first to the weather side and then over, and an instant later there was a tremendous crash on the deck.

For a moment the three men stood as if paralyzed, then all of them made a bolt for the companionway.

"Something's gone by the board!" I heard the captain exclaim, and then all of them passed out of hearing.

As soon as they were gone I sprang to my feet, and passing out of the pantry, made my way after them to the deck. None of the men saw me, and I lost no time in going forward.

The storm was now upon us, and, as Tony Dibble had reported, it was a heavy one. The sky was one mass of black, angry clouds, and the wind blew a perfect gale.

The schooner pitched and tossed to such a degree that I had great difficulty in reaching the forward deck, where I presently saw my sailor friend hard at work clearing away the remains of the boom of the mainmast, which had swung around and snapped off.

"Hello, there you are," he sang out. "I was afraid you had gone overboard again."

"Not if I can help it," I replied. "That is, unless it becomes necessary."

"The old man's a fool," went on Dibble. "He has no business to sit in the cabin when there's a storm on. We might all go to the bottom."

"Will we weather it, do you think?"

"We can try," replied the old sailor, as cheerfully as he could.

Meanwhile Captain Hannock was shouting at the top of his voice. But the wind was so great that little could be heard, excepting such expressions as would have been better unuttered. He was now thoroughly awake to the danger that threatened us, and did all in his power to make up for the time he had lost.

Guided by the mate, the sailors were already taking in what little sail was still spread. In the wind this was no easy matter, and some of it was torn to shreds.

"This storm will cost the captain a neat penny," said Dibble, after the work was done.

"I don't know if it will or not," I replied. "He doesn't expect to lose anything on this trip."

"How can he help it?"

"He has a way. Maybe I'll tell you when we are alone."

"Thought the old man acted awfully careless," said Dibble, as he went off.

Instead of abating, the storm increased in violence, until I could hardly keep my feet upon the deck. At first I thought of retiring to the forecastle, but concluded that if anything happened I would rather be on deck, and so remained, and held on tightly to the ropes.

Fortunately a few familiar lights from the shore were still to be seen, or otherwise we would have been driven upon the rocks. But the wheelman kept us in deep water, and just enough sail was carried to keep the schooner head up.

The storm kept on nearly the entire night, and no one on board the Spitfire had a moment's sleep. I remained on deck the entire time, and kept close to Dibble and the other sailors.

I noticed that Crocker had little to say, and concluded that he was thinking over the scheme by which he was to make a thousand dollars. I thought it rather strange that Captain Hannock and Lowell had taken such a man into their confidence, but made up my mind that it was necessary in order to do what they desired.

As I stood upon the bow of the vessel a sudden flash of light revealed to me a sight that made my heart give a bound. It was a wreck not a hundred feet ahead of us, and driving onward at a furious rate!

For an instant I was spellbound; then I gave a wild cry that brought all the sailors to my side.

"What is it?" asked Dibble anxiously. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no. Didn't you see the wreck ahead?"

"No."

"Thought I saw something," said one of the others. "But I wasn't sure."

"What kind of a wreck?" asked the mate peering forward.

I pointed in the direction in which it had disappeared.

"A small sailboat of some kind," I returned. "I didn't see – Look! Look there!"

As I spoke there was another flash of light. For an instant all hands beheld a small sloop with a broken mast, kiting before the wind.

"You're right," cried Dibble. "Wonder if there is any one on board?"

"Can't we hail her?" I asked.

"We might try, although the wind is pretty strong."

Both of us cried at the same time, and then the mate joined in.

"Boat ahoy!"

For a moment there was no reply, and we repeated the cry.

And then came the faint answer:

"Help! Where are you? Help!"

It was a man's voice, and by its sound we could tell that he was well-nigh exhausted.

"What can we do for him?" I asked anxiously.

"We'll be on him in a moment," said Dibble. "Let's throw him a rope or two."

In an instant he had a stout rope ready. Seeing what he intended to do I also procured a rope.

During this time the mate went to the man at the wheel, and told him to steer a little to the starboard. This brought the schooner somewhat around, and gave us a chance to take in the man, should he be fortunate enough to grasp one or the other of the ropes.

"I'm afraid we'll lose him in the darkness," said Dibble.

"Let us do all we can," I said, thinking how I would feel if placed in a position similar to that occupied by the man on the wreck.

"Help! Help!" repeated the unfortunate, in lower tones.

"He's almost done for," said the old sailor, with a shake of his head.

"There he is!" I cried, as another flash of light came.

"Sure enough. Stand to catch the rope!"

"Stand to catch the rope!" I repeated.

"I will! Throw it to me!" came back the cry.

In an instant both of us threw our ropes. By an unfortunate twist Dibble's went spinning from his hands, and, before he could catch it, went over the side.

"My rope's gone!" he groaned. "Yours must do the work, boy, or the man will be lost!"

I made no reply. I had felt the rope in my hands growing tighter.

"I have the rope!" came the cry. "Pull in!"

"He's got it!" I repeated. "Help me land him."

Dibble readily complied; and slowly but surely we drew in on the rope.

"Hurry up!" called the man. "I can't hold on much longer!"

"You'll be all right in a minute!" I called back. "Don't let go."

Dibble took hold of the rope with me, and held it up so that the man might have no difficulty in climbing over the rail.

Presently the unfortunate individual came in sight. I could see that he was completely exhausted.

"Give me your hand," I said to him and leaned far over the side to reach it.

With one remaining effort he threw up his arm, at the same time letting the rope slip from his grasp.

I caught his hand and held on to it with all my power. The man's weight was a tremendous strain on my muscles, but fortunately they stood the test, and then I began to drag him over the rail.

It was no easy task. The schooner having lost part of her headway, tossed and pitched dreadfully, and once the water poured over me in a perfect deluge.

But I had made up my mind to save the man, and I did not give up. I braced myself against the rail, and then Dibble gave me his hand; and a moment later the unfortunate was safe upon the deck.

"Thank God, I'm saved!" he murmured, and then he sank back unconscious.

By this time Captain Hannock had come forward to see what had taken place.

"Humph! only another mouth to feed!" he ejaculated. "Who saved him? Did you, Dibble?"

"I tried to, but Foster was the one to do it, brave lad that he is!" replied the old sailor.

"Foster seems to carry himself high!" sneered the captain. "Well, take him to the forecastle, some of you, and let him get over it. We'll carry him to New Bedford, providing he pays for his passage."

I was utterly disgusted with Captain Hannock's brutal words, but came to the conclusion that they were due in great part to the liquor he had drunk. I helped Dibble carry the rescued man to the forecastle, and here the old sailor and myself did all in our power to bring him to his senses.

It was quite a job; but finally it was accomplished, and the man sat up.

"Where am I?" he asked, in a dazed manner.

"Safe on board the Spitfire," I replied.

"And the Dora?"

"The Dora?" asked Dibble.

"Yes; my boat."

"Gone to the bottom of the Sound," said the old sailor. "I saw her founder just as you sprang for the rope."

"You did? Well, let her go. She wasn't worth much. I'm glad I'm safe. Phew! but wasn't it an awful storm?"

"Yes, indeed," said I.

The man wanted to know how we had come to see him, and all particulars, and we told him.

He was a tall and fine-looking gentleman, about forty years of age. He gave his name as Oscar Ranson, and said he was a lawyer in New York.

"I have been spending a few weeks at Port Jefferson on Long Island, and yesterday set out for a two days' cruise up the shore," he explained. "But I've had enough of it," he added with a shudder.

We made Mr. Ranson as comfortable as possible, and, while he was sipping a cup of hot coffee, he asked me about myself, saying that I didn't look much like a sailor.

And then I told him my story. Of course he was surprised.

"I wouldn't have believed it possible!" he exclaimed. "But you have done me a good turn, and now I'll do as much for you."