The Last Cruise of the Spitfire Part 15

In a few words I told him what I wanted, stating that I wished to hear whatever the trio in the cabin had to say about me.

"Tell you what I'll do," said he. "I'll take you down to the pantry.

There is a door there that connects with the cabin, and by looking through the keyhole you can see all that is going on, and hear everything, too."

This just suited me, and under pretext of getting something to eat, I went aft with him, and was soon within the pantry he had mentioned.

It was not a large place, and I had some difficulty in turning about in it without knocking down the dishes that it contained. But at last I felt that I was in a good position, and then after making me promise not to tell who had let me in if I was discovered, Phil Jones closed the door and left me to myself.

At first I could see and hear but little, but as I grew accustomed to the place I discovered the captain, Lowell and Crocker seated around the cabin table, drinking.

"It's going to be a stormy night, and no mistake," remarked Crocker, as he helped himself to some more of the liquor that stood on the table.

"Guess you're right," said Lowell. "If it's bad enough we might let the old tub go down here without going any further."

Captain Hannock shook his head.

"It won't do," he said. "We want her to sink in deep water where the insurance people can't find her. You must remember that a good part of the cargo is bogus, and if that was ever found out we wouldn't get a penny."

"How far do you calculate to sail?" asked Lowell.

"I've been thinking I'd better wait till we're about three days out from Cape Cod. We can sail a little north of the regular track, and so have things all our own way."

"Don't go too far," said Crocker. "Remember we've got to get back. Money won't do us any good if we lose our lives on the ocean."

"Don't get chicken-hearted!" cried the captain angrily.

"I ain't chicken-hearted," replied Crocker. "But what's the use of taking too much risk?"

"I ain't going to risk being sent to prison for ten years or more,"

cried Captain Hannock, in a rising voice. "If you----"

"Hush, not so loud," put in Lowell. "We don't want any of the others to know of what's going on. If they did they'd make short work of the three of us."

"Now don't you get afraid, Lowell. Reckon your row with that boy has taken the nerve out of you."

Lowell muttered something under his breath.

"I'll fix him yet," he said.

"Don't do it so openly," said Captain Hannock. "If you do, those who see it may get you into trouble."

"Leave me to manage the affair."

This last remark was followed by a brief spell of silence. What I had heard interested me greatly. These three men were plotting the destruction of the Spitfire with a view of getting the insurance on the vessel and her cargo. How it was to be done I did not know, but I surmised that they intended to either sink the vessel or burn her up; perhaps they intended to try both.

While I was yet thinking over what I had heard, and wondering what was to follow, there came a loud knock on the cabin door, and Tony Dibble appeared.

"Excuse me, Captain, but the storm is coming up fast from the southeast," he said, touching his cap.

"Confound you and the storm!" howled Captain Hannock.

"It's getting ready for a heavy blow," added Dibble. "We all thought we ought to tell you."

"Get to the deck! I know my business. I'll be up when it's necessary."

"Yes, sir."

Touching his hat again Dibble withdrew. The captain brought his fist down on the table with a bang.

"Dibble knows too much!" he cried. "I wish we had left him behind."

"He's a good sailor," put in Lowell. "Maybe the storm is a bad one."

"Don't croak, Lowell; I know my business."

By this time the gla.s.ses were empty, and the three men filled them up again.

I was considerably alarmed by what Tony Dibble had said. I was sure he would not have spoken had there not been good cause. If I had not been so interested in what was going on in the cabin I would have gone on deck at once.

Yet what followed enchained my attention so deeply that I was glad I remained.

"Say, Lowell, did you read the letter you took from the lad?" asked the captain, after he had drained his gla.s.s.

"I glanced over it," was the reply. "I didn't have time to read it through."

"Well, there's a surprise in it."

"What is it?" asked Lowell; and eagerly I bent forward to catch what might follow.

"The boy is Felix Stillwell's nephew."

"What!"

"It is a fact. You could have knocked me down with a feather," said the captain. "How he should come on board the Spitfire is the strangest thing I ever heard of."

"I reckon Stillwell would be mightily surprised if he knew his nephew was with us," observed Lowell.

"And I reckon you'd treated the lad differently if you'd known who he was."

And Captain Hannock gave a loud laugh.

This bit of conversation puzzled me not a little. What did these men know about my uncle? Could it be possible that he had anything to do with the Spitfire?

I knew that he occasionally made a venture in lumber from down East. On one occasion I knew him to invest several thousand dollars in a raft from Maine, although whether it paid or not I never found out.

I had always believed my uncle straightforward and honest, but now, since receiving the letter from England, my confidence in him was shaken. He had not treated me rightly, and this being so, who knew where his wrongdoing ended?

"It don't make a bit of difference if he is the president's son,"