Kitabı oku: «The Last Cruise of the Spitfire: or, Luke Foster's Strange Voyage», sayfa 8

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.

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."