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

Throwing more water on the canvas until it was sopping wet, I crawled in beside him.

But not to sleep. My mind was in a whirl, and I could not think clearly. My mouth was parched, and my tongue so thick that when I tried to utter some words in reverie I could not, a thing that frightened me still more.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DEEP BLUE SEA

I lay several hours under the canvas, wondering how the adventure would end. At present things looked rather blue, and perhaps neither Phil nor I would live to tell the tale. At length, when I was about to give up in despair, a low rumble brought me to my feet instantly.

It was thunder!

"A storm! a storm!" I cried. "Pray God it brings us rain!"

My cries awoke Phil, and he pushed the canvas aside.

"What did you say?" he asked, feebly.

"There is a storm coming up," was my reply. "Hear the thunder?"

"What of it?"

"What of it? A storm means water, and water means something to drink!"

"Hooray! so it does!"

And the cabin boy jumped to his feet at once.

It is wonderful what life the prospect of rain put into us. Eagerly we watched the approach of the dark clouds that were fast bearing down upon us.

"We must fix the cask to hold water," I said, "and also the canvas."

"And we can fix the sail, too," added Phil. "We must catch as much as possible."

I put the bung back into the cask, hammering it in well. Then by the aid of the mast, rudder and boom, we hung the canvas so that every drop that might fall upon it would be caught and poured into the cask.

Hardly had we finished our preparations when the storm bore down upon us. The lightning was terrific, the thunder deafening, and the rain came down in a deluge.

We heeded not the storm. We drank our fill of the first water that entered the cask, and oh, how good it seemed! Many a time since I have drunk spring water of the purest and coolest, but nothing that could compare with that which Phil Jones and I caught on the canvas in the middle of the Atlantic.

Our thirst satisfied, we turned our attention to filling the cask. It was not long before we had it more than half full, and as the cask was a twenty-gallon one, this was not bad, and would last us quite some time.

Of course we had to pay considerable attention to the raft, which at times tossed and pitched in a fashion that made me sick all over, and rendered it necessary to hold on tightly to prevent being swept overboard.

For two hours the storm continued without showing any signs of abating. By this time we were wet to the skin and shivering with the cold.

"Now we've got water, I wish it would clear off," remarked Phil, as he stood holding fast to the mast.

"So do I. It's no fun thinking that any moment we may be swept overboard."

"Hope the jolly-boat is out in it," he continued. "Captain Hannock deserves all the ducking a-going."

"He can't be to land yet. Wonder if all the sailors are with him?"

"I suppose so. I'm sure there wasn't a soul left on the ship."

Instead of letting up, the sky grew darker and the wind increased in fury. The Hasty bounded up and down over the mighty swells, and many were the times that I thought our last moment had come. Yet each time the clumsy raft righted herself, ready to battle with the next wave.

Not without considerable danger I managed to tie the planks more tightly together. That rude structure now seemed to be our only hope for safety.

And thus the night of awful peril wore on.

"This is the very worst storm I ever saw."

It was Phil who uttered the words. He was lying flat on the top of the cask, holding on tightly to the ropes that held the mast. He had been in that position for fully two hours, and it was plain to see that he was nearly exhausted.

"Keep up your courage," I replied. "The worst is over, I'm certain. This storm wouldn't appear so bad if we were on shipboard."

The box of provisions had become thoroughly water-soaked, and it was now resting on the flooring of the raft, and I was using it to lie upon, so that the waves might not wash over me so freely.

Far over in the east I could see a faint break in the clouds, and to this I laid my hope of a change for the better. But the cabin boy shook his head.

"Storms don't clear that way."

"Yet this one may."

"Hope you're right, but I don't think so."

An instant after these words there was a terrible clap of thunder, and following it a deluge of rain that almost swept us from the raft.

"I'll venture to say that's the end of it," said I.

After the downpour was over it began to brighten, and in the course of half an hour there were several rifts in the clouds. We watched them eagerly.

"Don't know but that you were right," said Phil at last. "See! see! the storm is drifting southward!"

"Thank fortune for it," was my reply. "I never want to pass through another like it!"

In another hour the rain had ceased. I judged it was now about four o'clock, and I was not far out of the way, for about an hour or so later the sun rose and peered dimly through the haze.

It was not long before it was as bright and clear as ever. But the water was still in a turbulent state, and every minute or two a wave would break over us with a swash and a crack decidedly unpleasant.

As soon as I was able to do so I overhauled the provision box with a view to saving what might still be fit to eat.

It was in a sad mess, and the salt water had made most of the things worthless. The crackers and bread I threw away at once, and this left us with nothing but some potted beef, a jar of pickles and some canned corn and asparagus – rather an odd collection, but decidedly better than nothing.

"We will have to live on closer mess than ever," I said, as I viewed the stuff.

"I won't mind that so long as we have enough to drink," returned Phil. "I can stand hunger, but I can't stand being dry."

"You're not very dry now," said I, with a faint attempt at humor.

The cabin boy gave a laugh.

"I don't mean that way. Guess our clothes will dry fast enough when the sun gets up."

The morning proved a long and warm one. We did all we could to pass the time pleasantly, but it was a failure. There was no concealing the fact that we were both anxious about our situation.

It must not be supposed that because I write so calmly of this involuntary cruise that we were not frightened, for such is not a fact. Both of us were greatly alarmed, and would have given about all we owned to be once more on dry land.

About every hour one or the other of us would climb up to the top of the mast and look in all directions for a sail or land. This we did until we were almost ready to give it up, as nothing appeared.

Our dinner was a curious one, some potted beef and cold green corn, washed down with a cup of cold water.

"Funny we didn't think of this corn when we were so thirsty," said Phil. "It would have done pretty well for a time."

"I didn't know it was there," I returned. "Never mind; it's over now, and I hope we don't have any such experience again."

CHAPTER XXIV

PICKED UP

The afternoon drifted into evening, and somewhat disheartened we prepared to pass another night on the Hasty. We arranged that Phil should sleep first for about three hours, and then I was to take my turn.

"Tie yourself fast," said I, "or you may roll off."

He followed my advice, and it was not long before he was in a sound slumber. I sat on the cask, steering as well as I could by the stars. Suddenly from out of the gloom ahead an object loomed up. I started to my feet and strained my eyes.

It was a steam yacht!

For an instant I could hardly believe my eyes. Then I gave a wild cry that caused Phil to jump up in alarm.

"What is it?" he asked anxiously.

"A ship!"

"A ship! Where?"

"Dead ahead. Let us hail her."

And together we called out as loudly as we could:

"Ship ahoy!"

There was no answer; but the yacht came nearer.

"Ship ahoy!"

"Ahoy here!" came back the welcome cry.

Then we heard the engine of the craft cease to work, and presently the long, slim yacht came close beside us.

"Who are you?" asked some one from the deck.

"We are shipwrecked from the Spitfire," replied Phil.

"Will you take us on board?" I added.

"Certainly; we have been looking for you," came the strange reply.

But at that instant I recognized Mr. Ranson standing at the rail! The lawyer looked highly pleased to see us, and waved his hand.

In a moment a rope was thrown to us from the yacht, and without any difficulty we ascended to the deck, where a small crowd of men surrounded us.

"Right glad am I to see you!" exclaimed Mr. Ranson, as he shook me by the hand. "And you, too," he added to Phil.

"Where are the rest of the crew?" asked the captain of the yacht.

"I don't know," was my reply. "They went off in the jolly-boat and left us behind."

"You can tell your story in the cabin," put in another man, who was dressed in navy-blue and wore a badge upon his breast.

"Yes, that would be best," said the lawyer. "How do you feel?"

"All right."

"A little hungry," added Phil.

"You shall dine at once," said the captain, a man by the name of Flagg.

He led the way to the cabin, and the lawyer, the man in navy-blue, Phil and I followed.

"This is Luke Foster, and this is Philip Jones," said Mr. Ranson, presenting us. "Captain Flagg, and Mr. Henshaw, of the government force."

We all shook hands and sat down. Then Phil and I told our stories straight to the finish, and I also produced the letters I had taken from the locker in Captain Hannock's stateroom.

"A serious case, a serious case indeed," said Mr. Henshaw, when we had finished. "Will you let me retain these letters?"

I looked at Mr. Ranson.

"Yes; let him have them. The matter is now in the hands of the government."

By the time our story was at an end the supper was served, and never did two boys make a heartier meal than did Phil and I. As we all sat around the table Mr. Henshaw asked us many questions, and made numerous notes of our answers.

"And how did you come to be out here for us?" I asked of the lawyer.

"Didn't I promise to help you?" he replied. "When I left the Spitfire it was my intention to return before she set sail again. I was under the impression that you had gone ashore, especially as Dibble thought so too."

"Where is Dibble? He was not on board."

"He, too, was left. Captain Hannock sent him ashore on an errand, and set sail before either of us could return. I think he must have smelt a mouse."

"He'll smell a still bigger mouse when he reaches shore," said the government officer, with a broad laugh. "Burning a vessel and a bogus cargo that are heavily insured is no light offense."

"Where do you think he will land?"

"The first place he strikes. It isn't much fun sailing around in a jolly-boat."

"It is my idea that he will land at Nantucket," said Captain Flagg.

"It won't make much difference to us," said the lawyer. "We will certainly hear of him in a few days, when he comes to make his claim. He won't lose much time in doing that, you can depend."

"And in the mean time I can telegraph to New York to have this Stillwell arrested," went on Mr. Henshaw.

I gave a start. I had not thought of such an occurrence.

"What's the matter?" asked the government officer, noticing me.

"Stillwell is Foster's uncle," explained the lawyer.

"Indeed! Well, I am sorry for you, but the law is no respecter of persons. Prince and pauper are alike to Uncle Sam."

"Mr. Stillwell is my uncle only in name," I replied. "He has never treated me half decent, and is even now trying to defraud me out of my inheritance."

"Indeed! Then there is no love lost between you."

"Not a bit, sir."

"By these letters I should say he was not a man to be trusted."

By Mr. Ranson's advice I told my story. Mr. Henshaw was deeply interested.

"It was a great mistake in one way to run away," he said. "But in another it has helped to gather evidence against him, evidence that will count for much. But let me tell you one thing."

"Well, sir?"

"I doubt if his son took that money."

"But he was in the office."

"Only for a short while. That money was gone before the office was opened in the morning."

I could hardly believe that. When I had opened the office and swept it everything appeared all right.

"Mark my words if I am not right," went on the government officer.

"I can't see how a thief from the outside could get in the place," I replied.

"No: but a thief from the inside – " said Mr. Ranson, dryly.

I started, struck by a sudden thought.

"You don't mean – ?" I began.

"What?"

"That my uncle took that money himself?" I burst out.

"I don't say he did, but it may be so," said Mr. Ranson slowly. "He has your money in trust. The letter to Hannock says he does not as yet dare to touch the money in his charge. With you in prison he could do as he pleased. Do you follow me?"

"I do; and it's as plain as day. But I never thought my uncle was such a villain!"

"I do not say he is; but it looks so. Who would have thought him in league with Hannock?"

"No one in New York surely," said I.

I could not help but think what a sensation my uncle's arrest would produce. How Mr. Banker would stare when he heard of it! I was sorry for my aunt's sake, but Mr. Stillwell had brought it upon himself.

Then I wondered if I would be able to clear myself. One thing gave me not a little comfort. It was Mr. Ranson's words:

"Remember, they have got to prove you guilty. Until that is done every man is considered innocent."

Yet this did not entirely satisfy me. I wanted to prove that I had not taken the money. If I did not I was sure there would be some who would always look down upon me.

Now that Mr. Ranson had found us, the course of the steam yacht was changed, so that we headed directly for Boston. Phil and I were assigned a cosy stateroom, and it is perhaps useless to state that both of us slept soundly.

Early in the morning I was aroused by a cry on deck, and the next moment there was a sharp rap on the door.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We have sighted the jolly-boat!" was Captain Flagg's reply. "You and Jones keep out of sight and there will be fun ahead."

CHAPTER XXV

THE CAPTURE ON THE OCEAN

It did not take me long to dress after Captain Flagg made the announcement that the jolly-boat had been sighted. I was eager to find out how the occupants had fared, and what Mr. Henshaw, the government officer, would do with them.

In a few moments Phil Jones and I had on our clothing, and both of us stepped out into the cabin, where we found Mr. Ranson awaiting us.

"Where is the boat?" I asked.

"Not over a quarter of a mile away," he replied. "Mr. Henshaw says you two and myself are to keep out of the way, and he will give Captain Hannock, Lowell, and the rest a complete surprise."

"All right. I suppose if the captain saw us aboard he wouldn't feel much like coming on deck."

"You are right. But he would have to, nevertheless. Mr. Henshaw will place him under arrest immediately."

"I would like to see what takes place," I rejoined.

"So would I," put in Phil. "Captain Hannock is no friend of mine."

"Captain Flagg has assigned us three a place where we may see all that happens," returned the lawyer. "Come with me."

We followed him on deck. Close to the wheel was a small covered place used for storing odds and ends of various kinds. It contained a window so that one might see, and the door was covered with a wire netting, through which we might hear all that occurred.

It was this place that we entered, closing the door tightly behind us. No sooner were we inside than I heard the voice from the jolly-boat sing out:

"Yacht ahoy!"

"Hello, there! Who are you?" was the answer returned.

"Survivors of the schooner Spitfire," said a voice which I recognized as that belonging to Lowell. "Will you take us aboard?"

"Yes. Lay to under our bow."

The yacht stopped moving, and a moment later the jolly-boat came alongside, and Captain Hannock, Lowell, Crocker, and the sailors stepped aboard.

"Who are you?" asked Captain Flagg of Captain Hannock; and I noticed that Mr. Henshaw had laid aside his navy-blue suit and badge, and was standing by apparently as an ordinary passenger.

Captain Hannock told him, and also introduced the rest.

"My schooner, the Spitfire, bound for Liverpool, took fire and sank," he continued. "We just had time to get out the jolly-boat and get a cask of water and some few things to eat when she went down."

"Indeed!" replied Captain Flagg. "How did she catch fire?"

"I can't imagine, excepting that it was set afire by a hand on board who changed his mind about going and wanted me to let him land before we started."

This was certainly cool, to say the least. Of course Captain Hannock meant me. Mr. Ranson pinched my arm.

"Where is that man?" asked Mr. Henshaw.

"I don't know. I wanted him to get into the jolly-boat, but he was sassy, and told me to mind my own business and he'd look out for himself."

"What was his name?"

"Luke Foster. He wasn't very old."

"Are all the rest here?"

"All but the cabin boy."

"Where is he?"

"Dead, I guess. My boatswain here says he saw him jump overboard out of sheer fright as soon as he saw the fire."

"My, what a whopper!" exclaimed Phil under his breath.

"Yes, I guess he's gone to Davy Jones's locker," put in Lowell. "He was a very nervous lad."

Captain Flagg continued to ask questions, and Captain Hannock and the others related their experience since the jolly-boat had left the Spitfire. He said they had a compass on board, but during the storm it had been washed overboard, and they were then compelled to steer by the sun and stars. Then the supply of eatables had fallen short and the sailors had quarreled among themselves on account of it, though he would make no complaint against the poor fellows.

"You don't look starved, Captain Hannock," said Captain Flagg coldly.

"I never show it in my face," was the smooth reply. "But all the same, I am mighty hungry."

"You shall have breakfast very soon." And then as Mr. Henshaw gave him a peculiar look, the captain continued:

"Won't you step into the cabin?"

"Thanks: I will. Where are you bound?"

"For Boston."

"That will just suit me. I can't pay for the passage though. I haven't any money."

"Was your vessel insured?"

"Only about half value."

The two captains and Mr. Henshaw disappeared into the cabin. We waited impatiently.

"I guess he's done for," said Phil.

"Yes; Mr. Henshaw intends to arrest them one at a time, so there will be no fuss," replied the lawyer.

About five minutes after there was a call for Lowell, and a minute after one for Crocker.

"That settles it," said Phil with a grin.

"Were none of the others in it?" asked Mr. Ranson of me.

"I hardly think so."

Just then one of the yacht hands approached us.

"The captain would like to see you in the cabin," he said.

"All of us?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

So we went down into the cabin, Mr. Ranson first, Phil following, and myself last.

The three prisoners were standing in a row, all heavily handcuffed.

"I demand to know the meaning of this?" Captain Hannock was saying in a voice of pretended indignation.

"It means that you are a prisoner," replied Mr. Henshaw.

"I can see that plainly enough," sneered the captain of the late schooner. "But why?"

"For burning the Spitfire, with a view of obtaining the high insurance upon her."

"Burning the Spitfire! Who ever heard of such a thing!"

And Captain Hannock started back in assumed astonishment.

"We have heard of it; and also of the bogus cargo you carried."

"It's a falsehood!" cried Lowell. "We know nothing of the burning of the schooner. I'm almost certain that boy set her on fire."

"What boy?"

"Luke Foster."

"Did you hire him to do it?"

"Hire him? Do you think I am a fool!" shouted Captain Hannock.

"Perhaps I do. The reason I asked was because I know you started out with the intention of setting fire to the schooner, or destroying her in some way," returned Mr. Henshaw.

"It's false," began Captain Hannock. "The Spitfire was – "

At that instant he stopped short. He had caught sight of us, and his face turned a sickly green. No doubt he felt that for once he had been thoroughly sold.

Lowell and Crocker also noted our entrance. The sailor fell back in a fright. The boatswain turned upon me fiercely.

"You whippersnapper!" he exclaimed. "Where did you come from?"

I offered him no reply, and he went on:

"This is the chap who set the Spitfire on fire."

"We know all about it," said Mr. Henshaw quietly. "For the present you three may consider yourselves under arrest."

"It's an outrage," cried Captain Hannock; but evidently his heart was not in the words.

"I'll risk it."

"You'll be sorry for it," put in Lowell, who was white with rage.

Mr. Henshaw paid no attention to him.

"Where shall we place them?" he asked of Captain Flagg.

"There is no place but an empty coal locker or two."

"That is good enough."

"Put me into a coal locker!" foamed the boatswain.

"Yes, my man. And let me add that I think a coal locker plenty good enough for a man who tries to burn a boy up."

"I won't go!"

"Oh, yes, you will."

"I won't!"

Mr. Henshaw suddenly caught him by the arm. I could see that the clasp was as that of steel.

"See here, I want no more nonsense," he said sternly. "You will do just as I say. Come along."

He marched Lowell off. The rest of us stood guard over Captain Hannock and Crocker.

"You will catch it for this!" said Captain Hannock to Phil.

"Maybe I will," returned the cabin boy. "After this I'm going to look out for myself."

"I'll skin you when I get a chance!"

"But you sha'n't get the chance," I put in; "that is, not if I can help it."

"You! why, do you know who you are?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are Felix Stillwell's nephew."

"And what of that?" I asked, wishing to draw him on.

"Oh, nothing, only you'll be sorry for what you've done."

"As Mr. Henshaw says, I'll risk it," I replied.

"You'll risk it?" he repeated, staring at me strangely.

"Yes, I'll risk it."

"You talk like a fool, Foster."

"Thank you."

"I can place your uncle in a very bad hole."

"How?"

"Never mind, I can, and that's enough."

"Then you'll have to go and do it, that's all."

"Don't you care?" he asked, considerably astonished at my apparent indifference.

"Yes, I care," I replied, honestly. "But if my uncle has done wrong I suppose he'll have to suffer for it."

"Perhaps you don't think much of your uncle," he said, suspiciously.

"I do and I don't. He has not treated me right at times."

"Oh!"

"Of course I hate to see him in company, in any transaction, with you," I added, pointedly.

"Don't crow, Foster," he fumed. "The end hasn't been reached yet."

"Not quite; but we'll be close to it when you are landed in the Boston jail."

This remark made Captain Hannock more angry than ever, and he began to use language that I would not care to remember, much less repeat.

"We'll see," he said at length. "I am not the only one to suffer, when this goes into court. Felix Stillwell will catch it, too!"

"Yes, and I reckon I can put in a word or two against this boy of his," put in Crocker, who had been listening to what was going on.

"You may say what you please," I returned, calmly.

"Say, Captain, didn't that uncle of his send him along to set the Spitfire on fire?" went on the sailor, suggestively.

"Why, of course he did!" burst out Captain Hannock, caught by the idea. "How else would he happen to be on board?"

I must confess I was rather taken back by this cool assertion.

I was about to reply, when Mr. Ranson caught me by the arm and shook his head.

"Don't waste time talking to him," said the lawyer. "He will do and say what he can to get free, but it will not avail him – he will only twist himself up."