# The Last Cruise of the Spitfire/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII.
THE STORM.
I was greatly alarmed at Captain Hannock's order to Lowell to investigate the cause of the crash in the pantry. If discovered I knew my punishment would be severe. These three men were playing a desperate game, and there was no telling what they would do if cornered.
"Oh, it was only a few dishes in the closet," said Lowell, as he helped himself to more liquor.
"It gave me quite a shock," declared Crocker, and he, too, took another drink.
These remarks relieved me somewhat. Perhaps they would not search the pantry after all. But the next words of the captain caused a chill to run down my back.
"I've lived in this cabin going on sixteen years," he said, " and I never yet knew them dishes to jump themselves down. I'm going to see what it was. If it's a spy I'll string him up, mark my words!"
I was now flat on the pantry floor, and to move ​would cause quite a noise. What was I to do? It did not become necessary for me to decide the question. The elements did it for me.
For at that moment the schooner gave a fearful lurch, first to the weather side and then over, and an instant later there was a tremendous crash on the deck.
For a moment the three men stood as if paralyzed, then all of them made a bolt for the companionway.
"Something's gone by the board!" I heard the captain exclaim, and then all of them passed out of hearing.
As soon as they were gone I sprang to my feet, and passing out of the pantry, made my way after them to the deck. None of the men saw me, and I lost no time in going forward.
The storm was now upon us, and, as Tony Dibble had reported, it was a heavy one. The sky was one mass of black, angry clouds, and the wind blew a perfect gale.
The schooner pitched and tossed to such a degree that I had great difficulty in reaching the forward deck, where I presently saw my sailor friend hard at work clearing away the remains of the boom of the mainmast, which had swung around and snapped off.
​"Hello, there you are," he sang out. "I was afraid you had gone overboard again."
"Not if I can help it," I replied. "That is, unless it becomes necessary."
"The old man's a fool," went on Dibble. "He has no business to sit in the cabin when there's a storm on. We might all go to the bottom."
"Will we weather it, do you think?"
"We can try," replied the old sailor, as cheerfully as he could.
Meanwhile Captain Hannock was shouting at the top of his voice. But the wind was so great that little could be heard, excepting such expressions as would have been better unuttered. He was now thoroughly awake to the danger that threatened us, and did all in his power to make up for the time he had lost.
Guided by the mate, the sailors were already taking in what little sail was still spread. In the wind this was no easy matter, and some of it was torn to shreds.
"This storm will cost the captain a neat penny," said Dibble, after the work was done.
"I don't know if it will or not," I replied. "He doesn't expect to lose anything on this trip."
"How can he help it?"
​"He has a way. Maybe I'll tell you when we are alone."
"Thought the old man acted awfully careless," said Dibble, as he went off.
Instead of abating, the storm increased in violence, until I could hardly keep my feet upon the deck. At first I thought of retiring to the forecastle, but concluded that if anything happened I would rather be on deck, and so remained, and held on tightly to the ropes.
Fortunately a few familiar lights from the shore were still to be seen, or otherwise we would have been driven upon the rocks. But the wheelman kept us in deep water, and just enough sail was carried to keep the schooner head up.
The storm kept on nearly the entire night, and no one on board the Spitfire had a moment's sleep. I remained on deck the entire time, and kept close to Dibble and the other sailors.
I noticed that Crocker had little to say, and concluded that he was thinking over the scheme by which he was to make a thousand dollars. I thought it rather strange that Captain Hannock and Lowell had taken such a man into their confidence, but made up my mind that it was necessary in order to do what they desired.
As I stood upon the bow of the vessel a sudden ​flash of light revealed to me a sight that made my heart give a bound. It was a wreck not a hundred feet ahead of us, and driving onward at a furious rate!
For an instant I was spellbound; then I gave a wild cry that brought all the sailors to my side.
"What is it?" asked Dibble anxiously. "Are you hurt?"
"No, no. Didn't you see the wreck ahead?"
"No."
"Thought I saw something," said one of the others. "But I wasn't sure."
"What kind of a wreck?" asked the mate peering forward.
I pointed in the direction in which it had disappeared.
"A small sailboat of some kind," I returned. "I didn't see—Look! Look there!"
As I spoke there was another flash of light. For an instant all hands beheld a small sloop with a broken mast, kiting before the wind.
"You're right" cried Dibble. "Wonder if there is any one on board?"
"Can't we hail her?" I asked.
"We might try, although the wind is pretty strong."
​Both of us cried at the same time, and then the mate joined in.
"Boat ahoy!"
For a moment there was no reply, and we repeated the cry.
And then came the faint answer:
"Help! Where are you? Help!"
"It was a man's voice, and by its sound we could tell that he was well-nigh exhausted.
"What can we do for him?" I asked anxiously.
"We'll be on him in a moment," said Dibble. "Let's throw him a rope or two."
In an instant he had a stout rope ready. Seeing what he intended to do I also procured a rope.
During this time the mate went to the man at the wheel, and told him to steer a little to the starboard. This brought the schooner somewhat around, and gave us a chance to take in the man, should he be fortunate enough to grasp one or the other of the ropes.
"I'm afraid we'll lose him in the darkness," said Dibble.
"Let us do all we can," I said, thinking how I would feel if placed in a position similar to that occupied by the man on the wreck.
"Help! Help!" repeated the unfortunate, in lower tones.
​"He's almost done for," said the old sailor, with a shake of his head.
"There he is!" I cried, as another flash of light came.
"Sure enough. Stand to catch the rope!"
"Stand to catch the rope!" I repeated.
"I will! Throw it to me!" came back the cry.
In an instant both of us threw our ropes. By an unfortunate twist Dibble's went spinning from his hands, and, before he could catch it, went over the side.
"My rope's gone!" he groaned. "Yours must do the work, boy, or the man will be lost!"
I made no reply. I had felt the rope in my hands growing tighter.
"I have the rope!" came the cry. "Pull in!"
"He's got it!" I repeated. "Help me land him."
Dibble readily complied; and slowly but surely we drew in on the rope.
"Hurry up!" called the man. "I can't hold on much longer!"
"You'll be all right in a minute!" I called back. "Don't let go."
Dibble took hold of the rope with me, and held it up so that the man might have no difficulty in climbing over the rail.
​Presently the unfortunate individual came in sight. I could see that he was completely exhausted.
"Give me your hand," I said to him and leaned far over the side to reach it.
With one remaining effort he threw up his arm, at the same time letting the rope slip from his grasp.
I caught his hand and held on to it with all my power. The man's weight was a tremendous strain on my muscles, but fortunately they stood the test, and then I began to drag him over the rail.
It was no easy task. The schooner having lost part of her headway, tossed and pitched dreadfully, and once the water poured over me in a perfect deluge.
But I had made up my mind to save the man, and I did not give up. I braced myself against the rail, and then Dibble gave me his hand; and a moment later the unfortunate was safe upon the deck.
"Thank God, I'm saved!" he murmured, and then he sank back unconscious.
By this time Captain Hannock had come forward to see what had taken place.
"Humph! only another mouth to feed!" he ejaculated. "Who saved him? Did you, Dibble?"
"I tried to, but Foster was the one to do it, brave lad that he is!" replied the old sailor.
​"Foster seems to carry himself high!" sneered the captain. "Well, take him to the forecastle, some of you, and let him get over it. We'll carry him to New Bedford, providing he pays for his passage."
I was utterly disgusted with Captain Hannock's brutal words, but came to the conclusion that they were due in great part to the liquor he had drunk. I helped Dibble carry the rescued man to the forecastle, and here the old sailor and myself did all in our power to bring him to his senses.
It was quite a job; but finally it was accomplished, and the man sat up.
"Where am I?" he asked, in a dazed manner.
"Safe on board the Spitfire," I replied.
"And the Dora?"
"The Dora?" asked Dibble.
"Yes; my boat."
"Gone to the bottom of the Sound," said the old sailor. "I saw her founder just as you sprang for the rope."
"You did? Well, let her go. She wasn't worth much. I'm glad I'm safe. Phew! but wasn't it an awful storm?"
"Yes, indeed," said I.
The man wanted to know how we had come to see him, and all particulars, and we told him.
​He was a tall and fine-looking gentleman, about forty years of age. He gave his name as Oscar Ranson, and said he was a lawyer in New York.
"I have been spending a few weeks at Port Jefferson on Long Island, and yesterday set out for a two days' cruise up the shore," he explained. "But I've had enough of it," he added with a shudder.
We made Mr. Ranson as comfortable as possible, and, while he was sipping a cup of hot coffee, he asked me about myself, saying that I didn't look much like a sailor.
And then I told him my story. Of course he was surprised.
"I wouldn't have believed it possible!" he exclaimed. "But you have done me a good turn, and now I'll do as much for you."
"Do you know Mr. Ira Mason, a lawyer?" I asked.
"Quite well."
"He is a friend of mine. He has an office in the same building with my uncle."
"Yes? What is your uncle's name?"
"Mr. Felix Stillwell."
At the mention of my uncle's name, Mr. Oscar Ranson jumped to his feet.