# The Last Cruise of the Spitfire/Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII.
ON BOARD THE SPITFIRE
As I have said, I was tumbled into the black hole, and the hatch was closed over me. Luckily I fell upon a pile of loose sailing, so my fall was broken and did me no harm.
But I was so completely bewildered by what had taken place that for a moment I did not know what had happened. Then I gradually became wide awake, and realized that I had been entrapped on board the vessel, which was probably short of sailors.
I had read of men who were thus pressed into the service, but never dreamed that such a thing could occur so close to the great metropolis, and in broad daylight.
Who my captors were or where they were taking me was a mystery. For an instant I thought the affair might be my uncle's work, but soon dismissed that idea as being too dime-novelish altogether.
With some difficulty I rose to my feet, but the motion of the vessel, as the sailors got her under ​way, was too strong for me, and I was forced to lie down.
The place was intensely dark, and even after my eyes became accustomed to the blackness, I could see little or nothing. On all sides not a light was to be seen, and overhead only a single streak of brightness around the hatch was visible. I was indeed a prisoner, and must make the best of it.
I crawled about the hold for quite a while, feeling everywhere for a place to escape, but none came to hand. Meanwhile I heard the creaking of the blocks as the sails were being hoisted, and the tramp of the sailors as they hurried around obeying orders. I could hear the murmur of voices, but try my best, could not make out a word of what was being said.
Presently, by the motion beneath me, I knew we were fully under way. The cargo below me groaned as it shifted an inch or two this way and that, and for an instant I was alarmed lest a case of goods should by some chance break loose and crush me. But nothing of the kind happened, and after a while all became comparatively quiet.
I knew not what time of the day it was, but judged it must be about the middle of the afternoon. How much longer would my captivity last?
If I could have found something with which to do ​so, I would have climbed up to the hatch, or shoved it open. But nothing was at hand, and the opening was fully five feet above my head.
The air in the hold was stifling and soon I breathed with difficulty. I longed for a drink of water, and wondered how long I could stand being in the place should those on deck forget I was there.
But those on deck had not forgotten me, as I soon saw. Presently the hatch was raised, letting in a flood of sunshine, and then a man's head was bent low.
"Below there!" he called out.
"Let me out," I replied.
"Will you be easy if we do?" he went on.
"That all depends. Why was I brought on board?"
"Because you belong here."
"Belong here!" I ejaculated. "I don't belong to this vessel."
"Well, that's what I was told; I don't know anything about it myself. Here, catch the rope and I'll haul you up."
As the sailor spoke he lowered a piece of heavy rope. Thinking anything would be better than remaining in the hold, I complied with his request, and a moment later stood upon the deck of the vessel.
​As I came up, a man, whom I took to be the captain, came towards me. He was a tall, lank individual, with a red beard and hair. The look on his face was a sour one, and it was easy to see that he was not of a kindly nature.
"Hello, my hearty!" he exclaimed. "So you're up at last. Had quite a nap, didn't you?"
"Why was I brought on this ship?" I demanded.
"Why was you brought on board? Well, now, that's a mighty good one, smash the toplight if it isn't."
"You have no right to bring me on board," I went on, "and I want you to put me ashore at once."
The captain gave a scowl.
"See here, youngster, I don't allow any one on board to speak to me in that fashion. You've got to keep a civil tongue in your head."
"Why was I brought on board?"
"Because you belong here."
"I don't belong here."
"Oh, yes, you do."
"I'd like to know why. I never saw or heard of this vessel before."
"Come now, that's a good one. Didn't you sign papers with Lowell yesterday morning?"
This question astonished me in more ways than one. First, because I had not signed papers with ​any one, and second, because Lowell was the name of one of the men I had overheard talking in the lumber shed in the morning. Was it possible I had been kidnapped upon the same ship the two had been discussing?
"I don't know what you mean," I replied. "I don't know Lowell, and never signed any papers."
"Nonsense. Lowell!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
And the same man I had seen upon the dock in Brooklyn came forward.
"Isn't this Luke Foster that signed with you yesterday?"
"Aye, captain."
I was more astonished than ever. How had they come to know my name!
"So you see there is no mistake," went on the captain, turning to me.
"Now I want you to go forward with Lowell. He'll show you the ropes. Come, step lively. We allow no skulking on board the Spitfire. You've signed articles, and you've got to abide by the deed."
"I didn't sign any articles, and if he says so he lies!" I burst out in deep anger at the way I was being treated. "It is true my name is Luke Foster, but how you came by it I don't know."
"Well, you're on the book, and that's all there is ​to it. Perhaps you were drunk when you signed, but I have nothing to do with that."
"I don't drink," I replied, and such was and is a fact. "This is all a put-up job."
"Hold your tongue!" cried the captain. "Hold your tongue, or I'll crack your head open with a marlinspike! I don't allow any one to talk back to me. Lowell, take him forward."
"Come along," said the sailor. "If the old man gets his dander up it will be all day with you," he added in a whisper.
For a moment I stood irresolute. I had a momentary idea of jumping overboard and swimming for liberty. But land could be seen fully a good half-mile away, and no vessels of consequence were near, so I was forced to give such a course up.
I walked forward, but my mind was in a whirl. Never before had I been so completely taken in. Surely this was escaping from the law with a vengeance!
"Who owns this boat?" I asked, as we reached the forecastle. "Captain Hannock. She's just as good a two-masted schooner as sails, is the Spitfire; so you have no reason to complain."
"Where are we bound?"
​"On an eight months' cruise, up the Down East coast, and then to England."
An eight months' cruise! What a time to stay on shipboard! But perhaps I might escape before the end of the period.
"What's the first landing?"
"New Bedford."
That was not so bad. If I could leave the vessel at that place I could easily find my way up to Boston, and a sojourn in that city would just suit me. All trace of my going there would be lost, and it was not likely that my uncle would look for me so far from New York.
"Here's your bunk, and here's some old clothes to put on," went on Lowell, as he pointed the things out. "You had better save your good clothes for shore. Knocking around the ship will wear them out in no time."
"What am I to do on board?" I asked, as I surveyed the greasy shirt and trousers with some dismay.
"Learn to do your duty as a foremast hand. If you obey orders and don't kick up any muss you'll have a first-class time of it," was his reply.
I was somewhat doubtful of the truth of this statement, but as nothing was to be gained by refuting it, I bit my lips and said nothing.
​"You can take your time about changing your clothes," went on Lowell. "There ain't much to do at present. When it storms is the time all hands work lively, for their own sake as much as for the sake of any one else. When you're in working rig come to the bow, and I'll give you a pointer or two about how to tackle things."
With these words the boatswain—for such Lowell was—left me to myself.