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

"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.