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

I cried out at the top of my voice, not once, but a number of times. But such was the bustle and confusion on deck that no one heard me, or if they did paid no heed.

Would the captain or Lowell come? Surely, surely, they would not dare to leave me to die on board! But the moments went by, and no one put in an appearance. The captain was going to make certain that nobody should live to tell any tales against him. He had probably discovered that I knew of the plans he and my uncle had concocted.

It was not long before I made an attempt to liberate myself. The cell in which I was confined was built entirely of wood, and the door was not an extra heavy one. But with my hands locked together I was at a disadvantage. Yet terror lent me an artificial strength.

I threw my whole weight against the door, once, twice, thrice. It groaned on its hinges, but that was all. I tried to obtain a purchase upon the floor, and thereby push the door open. But the flooring was slippery, and this was a failure.

As I have said, the cell contained nothing but a bench. In my desperation I took hold of this, and was surprised to be able to pull off the heavy board seat.

For an instant I was at a loss as to the manner in which I could utilize the board; then the idea came to rest one end against the rear of the cell and the other against the top of the door, and this I did. Then I brought my full weight down upon the pry thus formed, as near the top as possible.

Instantly the door was pressed open at the top to the width of several inches. Into this opening I slid the end of the board, and by thus working it down, managed in a few moments to snap the lock, and then the door flew open.

Meanwhile I could hear the creaking of the pulleys as the jolly-boat was let down into the water. Would they leave before I could reach them?

With my hands still chained together I rushed out upon the forward deck. A heavy pall of smoke blew directly into my face, and for a moment I was completely blinded, and knew not which way to turn. I noticed that the sails had been lowered, and it was a strong west wind that caused the smoke to thus rush towards me.

By the time the wind had shifted slightly I was half choked, and staggered against the rail to recover my breath. The jolly-boat had reached the water in safety, and the sailors and Captain Hannock were not long in entering it. I tried to shout to them, but the sound only ended in a violent cough, due to the smoke, which every moment was getting thicker.

At last I got my wind, and then cried out at the top of my voice,

"Help! Stop the boat! Help!"

No one paid the slightest attention.

"Pull away, boys," I heard Captain Hannock call out; and an instant later the jolly-boat had left the schooner's side!

In vain I repeated my cry. If the master of the Spitfire heard me, he gave no heed, and as for the sailors, they were too busy doing their duty to give me a thought.

Deserted! Left to fight for life amidst the flames! Oh, how bitterly I realized the awful position in which I was placed!

The wind blew in such a manner that soon the jolly-boat was hidden from view by the smoke. Evidently all had left the schooner in safety but myself.

What was I to do now? Had my hands been free I could have done much, but as it was I was next to helpless. For a moment I stood irresolute upon the stern. Should I take a plank or what ever came to hand, jump overboard, and trust to luck?

Suddenly a wild cry startled me.

"Save me! Save me!"

I looked, and was astonished to see Phil Jones standing terror-stricken near the companionway!

"Phil Jones!" I cried.

"Oh, Foster, is that you?" exclaimed the cabin boy, and he came running to my side.

He was deadly pale, and shook so that he could hardly speak.

"Oh, Foster, where are the others?" he continued.

"Gone!" I replied.

"Gone!" he ejaculated. "And we are left behind?"

"Yes; the cowards have taken the small boat, and we are left without any."

"What shall we do?"

"I was just trying to think. The fire is gaining headway fast."

"Can't we put it out?"

I shook my head.

"It might have been put out at the start, but it's too fierce now."

"There ain't any other boat," he went on. "There used to be, but it got stove to pieces."

"I can do but little with my hands chained together," said I. "Do you know where the key to this pair of handcuffs is?"

"On a nail in the cabin. I saw Captain Hannock put it there."

"Come, show me."

I ran into the cabin, Jones following. Here all was confusion, as if the inmates had been forced to leave in a great hurry. The captain of the Spitfire had left nothing undone to make the loss of the schooner appear purely accidental.

"Here is the key," said Phil, producing it. "Let me take them off."

In a moment he had the handcuffs loose, and I slipped them off.

"They should be on Captain Hannock," I remarked, as we hurried on deck.

"Indeed they should," replied the cabin boy, though he did not fully understand me. "I was dead tired, and went to sleep on the pantry floor, and no one came near me to wake me up. I suppose the old man would just as soon see me dead as alive."

"I, too, was left alone," I replied. "Captain Hannock and Lowell set the ship afire, and they didn't want any one to know it."

"I guess you're right," was Phil's reply. "I overheard Lowell speaking about something of the kind, though I could not quite make it out."

By this time we had reached the stern, where the smoke was not so dense. By the flames that were gradually working their way through the cracks in the deck, where the oakum had burnt away, I knew it would not be long before the entire ship would be enveloped. If anything was to be done it must be done quickly.

"We will have to make a raft," I said. "Get all the ropes you can find near at hand."

The cabin boy willingly complied. Now that he had a companion he did not appear so frightened, and he worked with a will.

CHAPTER XX

ON THE RAFT

While Phil was looking for ropes, I collected all the planking I could, and to this added a door or two. Then we tied all tightly together, placing the doors on top as a sort of deck.

Fortunately I was thoughtful enough to build the concern with one end resting on the top of the rail. Had I not done so it is doubtful if we could have got the raft over the side. When completed it was all of twelve feet square.

"Now take that pole and help pry her over," said I to Phil. "Try to make her strike right side up."

He did as I directed. At a favorable moment we gave the final push, and the raft went over with a mighty splash.

"She's all right," cried Phil joyfully. "Now what?"

"Get some stores together as quick as you can and jump aboard," I replied. "I'll look after some water."

Picking up one of the poles Phil had thoughtfully taken aboard, I placed it against the stern of the schooner, and we shoved the raft away as far as possible. Then the cabin boy took a board, and using it as an oar, propelled the clumsy craft still further, until we were at least a hundred feet off.

"There she goes! That's the last of the Spitfire!"

As the cabin boy uttered the cry there was a tremendous crash on board the schooner. Both of the masts had come down together.

The fall tore a great hole in the vessel's side. Into this the water poured at once.

At last the schooner could stand it no longer. She quivered from stem to stern. Then with a mighty plunge she disappeared beneath the surface of the ocean!

The Spitfire was no more! And Phil Jones and I were left alone upon the bosom of the broad Atlantic!

I can hardly explain the feelings that filled my breast as I saw the schooner take her final plunge and sink beneath the waves. It was to me like some gigantic living creature breathing its last. I turned to the cabin boy, and saw that his eyes were filled with tears.

"I've spent a good many years on her," he whimpered. "And all I had was on board her. It wasn't much, but it was a good deal to me."

"Let us be thankful that we saved our lives," I replied. "Captain Hannock no doubt thinks we are at the bottom of the ocean."

"By the way, where is the jolly-boat?" asked Phil suddenly.

I stood up and looked eagerly in all directions. Not a craft of any kind was to be seen.

"She's gone," I replied. "I suppose they have a compass, and have set out for the shore."

"If it wasn't for a couple of the men, I'd like to see the boat swamped," said Phil.

"Captain Hannock will be surprised if we ever meet again," I replied.

"I don't want to meet him again. I won't live with him. I'll kill myself first."

I was surprised at the determination with which the cabin boy uttered the words.

"You are right," I replied. "Captain Hannock is not a fit person for any one to have in charge. If we ever escape, depend upon it I will do all in my power to see that you are treated better in the future."

"Will you? Oh, thank you very much!"

The sun was now rising quite high in the eastern sky, sending broad sheets of light over the ocean. I climbed up on the top of the water cask and gazed eagerly around in all directions.

Not a boat was in sight.

"See anything?" asked Phil.

"Nothing but water and sky," was the reply. "We must shift for ourselves and no mistake."

Luckily for us the planks we had lashed together were of sufficient buoyancy to cause the doors above them to ride clear of the waves, so we were comparatively free from the wash of the sea, although occasionally a wave broke over the flooring.

"We will lash the cask fast," said I, "and then fasten the box of provisions on top of it."

"That's a good idea," replied the cabin boy. "If the water strikes the food it won't be of much account."

We did as I had suggested, first, however, drawing sufficient water from the cask to last us for the day.

"Now if we could hoist a sail we'd be all right," said Phil.

"Let us see if we can't raise the oar between the doors. I think if we can, we can tie some ropes fast to steady it and put the sail on it."

"We haven't any boom."

"Maybe we can split off a side of one of the doors and make one."

"We can try," responded Phil. "We ain't got much else to do. Gracious, ain't I glad I ain't alone."

"So am I," was my warm rejoinder. "We'll live or die together."

"I ain't much afraid of dying, now you are with me."

Planting the oar for a mast was no easy matter. Of course we did not attempt to do it until we had made the boom, and also a small crosstree at the top, from which we suspended the sail, not very artistically, it is true, but in such a fashion that it drew very well.

"There we are!" cried Phil, when the task was accomplished. "What's the matter with that?"

"Nothing," I replied. And then added with a laugh:

"Let us go into a firm: Jones & Foster, Boat-builders and Sailmakers."

Phil laughed heartily.

"You're right! I'm glad it's up. It looks more like a regular boat now."

"It will act as a signal as well as a sail," I replied, "and we need both."

"Now we've got the sail, how are we going to steer, and in what direction? The ocean looks all alike to me."

"We will have to be guided by the sun. I know land is to the west of us, though how far I haven't the least idea. And we'll have to make a rudder of some kind out of another piece of the door."

"Suppose we run across Captain Hannock and the jolly-boat?"

"It isn't likely, and if we do we will have to make the best of it. I'll stand no more nonsense."

CHAPTER XXI

NIGHT ON THE HASTY

After the sail was rigged and the rudder lashed in position, we took our first meal on the raft. I was hungry, but fearful of exhausting our stock of provisions before we reached land or help of some kind, I ate no more than was absolutely necessary, and the cabin boy did the same.

"What will we name the raft?" asked Phil, as he held a cup of water aloft.

I thought an instant.

"How would the Hasty do?"

"Just the thing!" he cried. "We were mighty hasty in building her. The Hasty she is."

And by drinking the water he so named the raft upon which we passed so many anxious hours.

It must have been near eleven o'clock before the morning meal was concluded. By this time the sun was almost overhead, and poured down hotly upon us.

"This won't do," I said, feeling my face nearly burning up. "We must rig a covering of some kind."

There was a small part of the sail that was not used. This I cut off, and putting the center of it over the box of provisions as it rested above the cask, I fastened the four ends to the corners of the doors, and that gave us a miniature cabin, in which we took turns in resting.

By good fortune there was a stiff breeze blowing directly from the east, so by skillful management, we kept the head of the raft pointed in the direction we wanted to go.

As we sailed along Phil Jones told me much concerning himself.

"I've lived with Captain Hannock ever since I can remember," he began. "My father was a sailor, and he died on board the Spitfire, leaving me in charge of those on board. My father was mate, and I've heard that Captain Hannock was a better man in those days."

"Wasn't your mother living?"

"No: she died when I was a little baby. That's the reason, I suppose, the captain took me in charge."

"Then perhaps he had no legal right to do so."

"I don't know about that. But I'm sure he had no legal right to bang me around the way he did."

"Certainly not. And he shall not do so in the future."

Then Phil asked me about myself, and I told him much of my history. He was not very old, but the sharp knocks he had received had given him a wisdom beyond his years.

Talking made the time pass more swiftly, and before we knew it the sun was sinking in the west. It would not be long ere the night would be upon us.

"Let us lose no time, but sail along as far as we can," I said.

"How about sailing by the stars?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"I know a little."

"Then we won't lower the sail until it is absolutely necessary. Come, you take a nap if you can, and I will steer as long as the sun lasts, and then you can take the rudder."

To this the cabin boy readily agreed. He was soon asleep, and I was virtually left alone.

As the evening shadows deepened I realized for the first time our forlorn condition. Here we were, afloat on the bosom of the broad Atlantic, with no land or sail in sight. What would the outcome of this adventure be?

From the present my mind drifted to what had been left behind. I had no doubt but that my Uncle Felix was searching for me in every direction. Perhaps he had even made offers of reward for my discovery. Six thousand dollars was no mean sum to lose, and I knew him well enough to understand that he would well-nigh turn the metropolis upside down ere he would submit to it.

I could understand that my running away made it look bad for me. Every one would say, if I was innocent why had I not stood my ground? Even Mr. Banker and Mr. Mason might shake their heads and have their doubts.

Then I thought of the evidence I held in my pocket against Mr. Stillwell and Captain Hannock. If I reached shore in safety, what a sensation it would produce! Had my uncle treated me with more consideration I would have had some hesitation about exposing him even though he deserved it and justice demanded it. But not for an instant had he thought of how he was ruining my good name for all time. And I had been innocent while he was guilty. He must suffer the penalty of his misdeeds.

I could not help but think of Mr. Ranson and Tony Dibble. What had become of the two? Would they watch for Captain Hannock's return and expose him at once?

Slowly the evening wore on, until the last trace of sunshine had gone and only the stars shone down upon the Hasty. Phil was fast asleep, and I did not like to wake him, so much did he appear to enjoy the nap. Poor boy! for once he knew that he would not be aroused by a kick or blow!

It must have been ten o'clock when Phil did awaken. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Where am I? Oh, I remember! How good of you, Luke, to let me sleep so long!"

"It's getting pretty dark now, Phil. Are you sure you can steer?"

"I think so."

I handed him the rudder and lay down under the canvas. At first I was too restless to sleep; but after awhile tired nature could stand it no longer, and I dropped into a heavy slumber.

"Wake up, Luke, wake up!"

"What's the matter?" I exclaimed.

"I can't say, but something is wrong," he returned.

At once alarmed, I tried to crawl from under the bit of canvas. When I had accomplished this feat – which was not easy, considering how the Hasty rolled and pitched – I gazed at Phil and saw that he was trembling violently.

"What is it, Phil – what scared you?" I went on.

"We struck something," he cried. "I most believe it was part of a boat."

"Something from the Spitfire most likely," I returned.

"I don't know – but – but – "

"But what, Phil – what ails you?"

"I believe there was a man on it!" he said, in an awful whisper. "I couldn't see very well. It gave me a fearful scare."

"A man! Are you sure?"

"No, but it looked like a man. My, it was terrible!"

"You look it. In what direction was it?"

Phil pointed over his left shoulder. I peered through the gloom as best I could, but could see nothing.

"Well, it's gone now, whatever it was," I said. "Are you quite sure you didn't fall asleep and dream it?"

"Oh, I wasn't asleep. I'm not a bit sleepy after my long nap. I am sorry I disturbed you, but – but I couldn't help it."

"That's all right," said I, with a yawn. "Well I might as well turn in again, eh?"

"Yes, turn in by all means."

Once more I crawled beneath the canvas. I had not heard a single cry, and I was inclined to think that Phil had been mistaken concerning a person on the wreckage he had seen.

My short nap had only made me more sleepy and it was not long before I dropped off into a sound slumber, which even the fitful motion of the raft did not disturb.

"Luke! Luke!"

It was Phil's voice again, louder than ever before.

"Now what's up?" I replied, not in the best of humor.

"We must be careful. We have struck – "

The cabin boy did not have time to finish the sentence for at that instant the Hasty received a terrific shock which nearly split her in two.

"Oh, Luke, what shall we do?" cried Phil, in alarm, as soon as he could catch his breath.

Before I could answer there came another shock. A moment later Phil and I were struggling in the dark waters!

CHAPTER XXII

A TERRIBLE LOSS

To be suddenly aroused out of a sound sleep, and immediately afterwards to find yourself struggling in deep, dark water is not an experience to be desired. The first plunge made me shiver from head to foot, and it was only by instinct that I kept my mouth shut and struck out to keep myself afloat.

I had not the slightest notion of what had happened, and in the darkness could see nothing. It was some time ere I could recover and call out to the cabin boy:

"What is it, Phil? Where are you?"

"Here I am," he cried, close beside me; and an instant later his hand touched my body.

"What happened?" I repeated.

"I don't know," he replied. "Either something struck the boat, or else we hit a rock."

"I don't think we are near enough to shore to strike a rock," I rejoined.

"Well, what was it then?"

"I don't know, and what's more I'm not going to try to find out just at present. Where is the raft?"

"I guess the Hasty has gone to the bottom. I can't see her anywhere around."

"Don't be foolish. She couldn't sink."

"That's so; I forgot. Well, where is she then?"

"We must find her. Can you keep on swimming?"

"For awhile. But don't leave me!" added the cabin boy in sudden alarm.

"I won't. We can swim together. Take it easy."

Side by side we struck out. My thoughts were busy. Suppose we were not able to find the raft? To swim any great distance would be impossible, and we could not float forever.

"It's hard work, and no mistake," said Phil, after a few moments of silence. "I can't go much further."

"Suppose we let ourselves drift with the current."

"That's a good plan, for I suppose the Hasty did the same thing."

So we allowed ourselves to drift for fully ten minutes. Fortunately both of us were good swimmers, and understood the art of floating. If not, it might have gone hard with us.

"What's that ahead?" cried the cabin boy, at length.

"Where?"

"There! To the right!"

I strained my eyes. Was it a light? Yes; not one but several, and all moving rapidly away.

"It's a boat!" I cried. "Let us yell."

And yell we did; once, twice, and then a dozen times, in a tone that made me so hoarse I could hardly speak afterwards.

"It's no use," said Phil. "It's a steamer, and they won't pay any attention."

"I shouldn't wonder but that it was the vessel that struck us?" I exclaimed.

"Most likely. But if they would only pick us up I wouldn't care a straw."

After this there was another interval of silence. Then my arm struck something hard. I put out my hand, and was overjoyed to find that it was the raft.

"Here she is!" I cried. "Here's the Hasty."

"Thank our stars!" returned Phil; "I couldn't have held out much longer."

It did not take us long to get aboard, and completely exhausted we sank down on the flooring and panted to get our breath.

There was no more sleep for us that night, so we both sat close together, and talked of what had struck us, and what damage it had done to the raft.

"The rudder is smashed," said Phil.

"Never mind, we can make another in the morning," I returned. "It's too dark to do anything now."

So we let the raft drift at will, trusting the wind was still blowing us toward the shore.

Slowly the night wore on, and at the first streak of dawn we were both in motion. It seemed a shame to rip up another part of the flooring to make a rudder. Yet there was no help for it. While doing so I noticed that the doors were unusually wet, but gave it no attention, thinking it had been caused by the raft dipping under when the vessel had struck us.

At last we began to get hungry, and Phil hauled some crackers from the provision box.

"They will make us mighty thirsty, and we haven't much water," he said. "But I hadn't time to hunt up just the best things to take along."

We ate our crackers, and when we had finished them I turned to the cask to get some water. I pulled out the bung, and was horrified to discover that the cask was empty!

"The water's gone!" I gasped.

"What!"

"It's true; there isn't a drop in the cask!"

Phil was fully as much dismayed as I was. Alone on the broad Atlantic and not a drop to drink!

"We can't live without water," he cried.

"I know that. It is worse than being without food."

"Ten times over. Where has the water gone?"

We examined the cask carefully. At the bottom was a bunghole in which a bung had been placed; but either the riding of the raft or the shock had loosened the bung, and it had dropped out and allowed the water to run away to the last drop.

"We are done for now!" groaned Phil. "We can't stand it twenty-four hours without something to drink."

"Perhaps we'll have a change in luck before that," said I; but I had my doubts.

The hours that passed after I made the discovery were terrible ones. We suffered intensely from thirst, and I was almost tempted to drink the salt water that surrounded us. Had I done so this tale would probably have never been written.

When the noonday sun shone down upon us we could not stand to be out in it. Phil crawled under the canvas, his eyes rolling strangely.

"Water! water! oh, give me water!" he cried.

I was startled. Was the poor boy going insane?

"Let me wet the canvas," I said. "It will make it cooler."

I did as I suggested, and the cabin boy declared it was much better than before. Then I coaxed him to try to sleep, and at last he fell into a troublesome doze.