The Last Cruise of the Spitfire Part 24

The third letter was a long one, and very hurriedly written, so much so in fact that I had all I could do to decipher its contents. I moved over to the skylight, and was soon deeply absorbed.

"You rascal, you, what are you doing here?"

It was Captain Hannock's voice. I started in alarm, and found the skipper of the Spitfire close at my elbow.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN A TIGHT FIX.

Captain Hannock's face was deadly white, and I knew he had taken in at a glance what I was doing.

"Looking for my letter," I replied, as calmly as I could.

"Are you?" He glared at me. "You're too smart, young man. I'll have to take you down a peg."

As he spoke he advanced upon me. I saw that he had a large wooden belaying pin in his hand, and I retreated as far as possible.

But he was between me and the door, and took good care not to go round the cabin table, so I was soon forced to stop simply because I could back no further.

"Don't you dare to touch me!" I cried.

He gave a hard laugh.

"I'll do just as I please. Lowell!"

There was no answer. The captain repeated the call in a louder tone, and presently the boatswain came hurrying down the stairs.

"What's up, Captain?"

"I've found him," replied Captain Hannock grimly. "Prying through my private papers!"

"What?"

"Jest so! Come, get some rope. We'll teach him a lesson he won't forget."

Lowell left the cabin at once. I wondered what the skipper of the Spitfire intended to do next. Was he going to flog me?

I was not prepared for what was to follow. In a moment Lowell returned with a quant.i.ty of stout rope.

"Now bind him well from head to foot," said the captain.

"No, you don't!" I cried.

"Yes, we do, my hearty," returned Lowell, and Captain Hannock shook the belaying pin in my face.

"Stand still, unless you want your head split open," he commanded. "I'll have you to understand your days of fooling are over. You've discovered our secret, but it sha'n't do you any good."

The boatswain sprang upon me, and the skipper of the Spitfire a.s.sisted him. I struggled, but soon found it of little use. The two were too many for me, and in a moment I was securely bound.

"Now open the trap, Lowell, and we'll chuck him down in the hold,"

exclaimed Captain Hannock.

"He may yell, Captain."

"That's so. Tie a cloth over his mouth."

The boatswain procured a towel, and stuffing part of it in my mouth fastened it around my neck.

Then a trap door in the cabin floor was opened, and I was lowered upon the cargo below.

"Now you can stay there till you come to your senses," observed Captain Hannock.

Then the trap was closed, and I was left to my fate.

Fortunately for me the distance I was dropped was not great or I might have been severely injured. I struck upon a packing-case and lay there helplessly. I overheard my captors move about the cabin for some time, and then all was quiet.

The gag in my mouth nearly choked me, but try my best I could not dislodge it. The ropes about my body, especially those that were tightened around my ankles, hurt me not a little, but all my efforts to loosen them only appeared to draw them closer, until, had I been able to do so, I would have cried out from pain.

As I have said once before, the darkness in the hold was intense, and try my best I could not see a thing. Had there been a light I might not have felt so bad, but as it was I felt next to hopeless.

I wondered what was going on above. I was not kept long in suspense, for presently there was a thump and I knew the Spitfire had reached the dock.

Then came the noise of many feet, as the schooner was tied up and the sails were lowered and made fast. At length this task was completed, and then all was quiet once more.

I wondered if Mr. Ranson had gone ash.o.r.e without making any inquiries about me, and if so, if he would bring down the police or other officers of the law to arrest Captain Hannock and the others.

The time dragged by slowly, until I thought the entire day had pa.s.sed. I grew hungry and thirsty, and at last chewed the bit of cloth in my mouth for pure consolation. Would no help come?

At length, when I had given up all hope of seeing any one, I heard a noise at the other end of the hold, and presently saw the dim rays of a candle moving slowly about.

"Foster, are you here?"

Instantly I recognized the voice of Tony Dibble, and my heart gave a bound. I tried to cry out to him, but could not.

But, though I could not cry, I could make a noise with my heels, and this I did with a right good will.

It did not take me long to attract the old sailor's attention. He stopped short, and held the candle over his head.

"Is it really you, Foster?" he asked.

"Rat, tat, tat," I replied with my heels.

"Where are you?" he went on.

"Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat," was all I could answer.