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."
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!
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.
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."
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."
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."
"Will I?" sneered Captain Hannock.
"You will. You had better remain quiet and think over what you'll have to say when you come up for a hearing in court."
In a moment more Mr. Henshaw reappeared, with the information that since Lowell had objected so strongly to the coal locker they had put him in the oil closet (the rankest place on board), and now there were two lockers for the two remaining prisoners.
Despite their protestations, Captain Hannock and Crocker were quickly transferred to their improvised cells. They did not wish to be separated, but Mr. Henshaw would have it no other way.
And then we steamed for Boston harbor.
The Disdain was a fine yacht, and the morning was all that could be desired. After the prisoners had been disposed of we all went on deck and had a talk over the affair.
I learned that the Disdain had been chartered by Mr. Ranson. He had found Captain Flagg without anything to do, a party that was to have gone out for a week's cruise having disappointed him at the last moment. It had not taken long to get the yacht in trim for the trip, and in the mean time the lawyer had hunted up Mr. Henshaw and related the particulars of the case.
The government officer had taken the matter in charge without hesitation. I did not know his exact authority, but Mr. Ranson assured me that it was amply sufficient for the occasion, and on this I rested content.
"What will you do when we arrive in Boston?" the lawyer asked me after a while.
"I don't know, sir. I suppose I will be wanted at the examination."
"Of course."
"The trouble is I haven't any money," I went on, thinking it would be best that my friend should know the exact condition of affairs. "I had four dollars and a half, but Captain Hannock or Lowell took it from me."
"Don't let that worry you," he replied with a smile. "Saving my life was worth considerable to me, and I do not intend to forget it."
"If you will lend me ten or fifteen dollars——" I began.
"You shall have a hundred if you wish."
"I don't want so much. I intend to pay you back."
"You need not, I——"
"I want to, though."
"You can suit yourself. But let me say that I am your friend, and I intend to help you all I can, not only here, but when you reach New York. Your uncle will probably have you arrested as soon as you arrive, unless he has his hands too full of his own affairs, which I am inclined to believe will be so."
"I wish I could get at the bottom of that robbery," I went on earnestly.
"Depend upon it, it will all come out in the end. I have spoken to Henshaw about it, and he says he will give the full particulars to a fellow officer in New York who will willingly work it up."
"You are very kind," was all I could say.
"While you are in Boston you must be my guest," went on Mr. Ranson. "I have a legal connection there as well as in New York, and have rooms at the Ridgerow House."
This conversation relieved me of not a little anxiety. I thanked Mr. Ranson again.
"And now about your companion," he went on. "What do you know concerning him?"
I gave him all the knowledge I possessed. Then Mr. Ranson called Phil aside and had a long talk with him.
"And so you are sick of the sea?" said the lawyer at length.
"Yes, sir; tired of the sight of it," exclaimed Phil. "I'd rather do anything on land than ship as a cabin boy again."
"Well, I'll see what I can do towards getting you a place in some office or store, and until then I'll find you a boarding-house and pay your board."
"But Captain Hannock is my guardian."
"He won't be after he is convicted. Have you any relatives?"
"Only an old aunt down at Lynn."
"Do you like her?"
"Yes, sir; very much. But Captain Hannock would not let me visit her."
"Then she may perhaps become your guardian, and let you live in Boston, or wherever you find a place. I will fix it up for you if you wish."
"Oh, thank you."
And so it was arranged.
"Tell you what," said the cabin boy, when we were alone, "Mr. Ranson's a brick!"
"You're right, Phil," I replied, "and a gold one."
About noon Boston appeared, and shortly after we steamed up the bay. I had never visited the "Hub" before, and the sight was to me a novel and interesting one.
"We will anchor out in the bay, and go ashore in the small boat," said Captain Flagg. "Mr. Henshaw wishes to transact some business before the prisoners are transferred."
"Can we go ashore?" I asked.
"You will have to ask Mr. Henshaw."
"I think you can," said Mr. Ranson. "You do not intend to run away, I believe."
"Not much," I laughed. "My running away days are over. This has turned out very well, but I don't want to try any more."
Presently the government officer came up.
"Of course you can go ashore, and do as you please. Only be on hand at the examination, for you both will be needed as witnesses."
It was not long before the small boat was launched, and quite a party entered. We soon reached the wharf, and in a body proceeded to one of the court buildings, where Mr. Henshaw left us sitting in one of the lower rooms.
He was gone full half an hour.
"Come this way, please," he said on his return, and led the way to an apartment on the second floor.
"Here are the persons, Judge," he said, presenting us to an elderly gentleman sitting in a big chair.
"I know Mr. Ranson very well," was the judge's reply. "Sit down, I wish to ask you a number of questions."
So we all sat down. I was the first witness, and all I had to say was carefully noted. Then Phil Jones and Mr. Ranson followed; and after an hour or more, the judge said he was satisfied.
"I wish all of you to appear here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock," he said, as he dismissed us. "I will not bind any of you over, but will trust to your honor to do as I wish."
This was satisfactory to all hands, and we left. Out on the street Mr. Ranson told Phil to come with him and he would see what he could do for him.
"You can come too, Foster, if you wish," he added.
"I think I would prefer to take a walk around the city," I replied. "It is all new and strange to me."
"Do just as you think best."
Before we separated the lawyer handed me two five-dollar bills. He would have given me a larger amount, but I did not wish it.
"Don't get lost," was his final remark.
"I'll try not to," I replied.
I did not know one street from another, but walked up and down. To me all seemed quite different from New York, and the time went by swiftly. About the middle of the afternoon I took the cars out to Bunker Hill monument and surrounding places of interest.
I returned at supper time. Mr. Ranson had given me directions for reaching the Ridgerow House, and I found no difficulty in doing so.
I met him in the hall.
"Ah, here you are," he exclaimed. "Come up to the room and get into shape for supper."
He led the way to an elegant room on the second floor.
I was surprised at the sumptuousness of the apartment, and did not hesitate to say so.
"It is nice," he returned. "Certainly far better than my quarters were at Port Jefferson."
"By the way, won't the people be alarmed for your safety?" I asked.
"I have already telegraphed to them."
I washed up and combed my hair. My clothes were none of the best, but they were the best I had, and Mr. Ranson told me I could get another suit the first thing in the morning.
Supper at the hotel was an elegant affair, and both of us did full justice to it.
During the meal I asked what he had done with Phil.
"I have secured him a position in an office down on the wharves," replied the lawyer. "The work just suits him, and the pay, six dollars a week, is, I think, very good to start on. He has written to his aunt telling her to come down upon my invitation. As soon as she arrives I will fix the matter up so that there will be no trouble."
"I think Captain Hannock has some money belonging to him."
"So Philip tells me. I shall bring him to a strict accounting, and make him pay over every penny if he has it."
"I am anxious to get back to New York," I said. "Now I have decided on what to do I am impatient to begin."
"I guess you will be able to start by to-morrow noon. I will try to arrange it with Judge Boyden, so there will be no trouble. But I am sorry I shall not be able to go with you."
"No?" I repeated, in considerable dismay, for I had counted on the lawyer accompanying me.
"Business will keep me in Boston for a week or more. But I have already written to Mr. Ira Mason to take your case in charge."
"Mr. Mason!" I exclaimed.
"Yes. You said you knew him, and he is as good a lawyer as I could get. What do you think of it?"
"I like it very much," I replied.
"I thought you would. I told Mr. Mason to spare no expense to clear you and also to have the subject of your uncle's guardianship investigated. I know he will do what I asked."
"I am sure he will."
"If you wish to follow my advice write at once to this Mr. Banker, whom this Harvey Nottington of London says was to be your guardian. With what you now know perhaps he may be able to throw some light on the subject."
"I will do so at once," I replied.
As soon as the meal was finished I sat down in the reading-room, and wrote a long letter to Mr. Banker, telling him all that happened, and what a villain I had found Mr. Stillwell to be. I also said that I expected to be in New York the following evening and wished very much he would meet me. I likewise quoted the letter from London, and asked why my father's wish had not been carried out.
"That will do first-rate," said Mr. Ranson, when I showed it to him.
"I think I will take a walk out and post it," I said, for to write the letters had taken over an hour and a half, and I felt somewhat cramped from the work.
"All right. You will find me in the room when you return. Remember it is number 67."
I walked out upon the busy street. It was brightly lighted, and in the evening looked very similar to Fourteenth Street in New York.
I found a mail-box on the corner, and dropped my letter in it.
I was just turning away from the box when I felt a hand on my arm and a cheery voice called out:
"Well, dash my toplights, if it ain't Luke Foster! How under the polar star did you git here, boy?"
I turned swiftly and found that the man who had addressed me so cheerily was none other than Tony Dibble.
"Why, Dibble!" I returned, warmly, and clasped his hand.
"I thought you was on your way to Liverpool."
"I just got in Boston," I returned.
"And where's the Spitfire?"
"At the bottom of the Atlantic, Dibble."
"No!" He stared at me for a moment. "Then the old man——" he began in a whisper.
"Hush! not so loud!" I interrupted. "Somebody may overhear you."
"That's so." He lowered his voice still more. "She was really done for, then?"
"Yes, burned up."
"Too bad! She was an old tub, nothin' better. But I kinder loved her, havin' sailed in her so long. The villains! They ought to be strung up to the yard-arm, every one of 'em!"
"How did you get here?" I asked, curiously.
"Just came up from New Bedford. That there lawyer, Ranson, said I had better come up here and wait till I heard from him. He was going to git a boat and go after the Spitfire."
"He did get a boat, and rescued Phil Jones and I from a raft, after the Spitfire was burned."
"Good for him! And where is the captain now?"
"Locked up."
"What!" roared Tony Dibble, in amazement. "Do you mean to tell me they caught him red-handed?"
"Hardly, but they caught him, and the others, too."
"Good!"
"Mr. Ranson is now stopping at the Ridgerow House, and I am stopping with him."
"Yes, he told me the name of the hotel. I was on the way down there now to see if he had got back."
"Perhaps you can help him as a witness against Captain Hannock," I went on.
"I reckon I can. I ain't a lovin' the captain much, I can tell you."
"I suppose not."
"No, he was a corker to sail under. It was only the old Spitfire that took my eye. But she's gone now——" Tony Dibble wiped the moisture from his eyes. "Too bad! Ought to string 'em up, say I!"
"The law will deal with them, never fear."
Dibble was curious to know the full particulars of the going down of the Spitfire, and walking to a somewhat retired part of the street, I gave them to him. He shook his head over and over again.
"And all my duds a-goin' with her," he said "Who's goin' to pay for them?"
"Captain Hannock ought to."
"So he had! Is that there lawyer at the hotel now?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to see him at once. Coming along?"
"Not just now. I will be back later."
"Just so, Luke; I hope you git justice for bein' left aboard."
And with a shake of his weather-beaten face, Tony Dibble started off for the Ridgerow House.
Then I continued my stroll quite a distance. Some of the shop windows that were still lighted interested me, and before I knew it I had gone a mile, if not more. At length I came to a railroad station. A number of trains had just come in, and a crowd of people were streaming from the various entrances and I stopped to watch them.
Suddenly some one stopped in blank amazement before me.
"So here's where you have been keeping yourself, young man!" were the first words I heard.
Somewhat startled, I looked full at the speaker.
It was my uncle Felix!
"Mr. Stillwell!" I ejaculated.
"Exactly; and you shall not escape me this time!"
And with a very stern face my uncle caught me by the collar.
"Let go of me!" I cried.
"Not much! And don't you dare to try to break away, for if you do I will hand you over to the first policeman that appears!"