Page:Last Cruise of the Spitfire.djvu/181

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OR, LUKE FOSTER'S STRANGE VOYAGE.
171

minutes. Fortunately both of us were good swimmers, and understood the art of floating. If not, it might have gone hard with us.

"What's that ahead?" cried the cabin boy, at length.

"Where?"

"There! To the right!"

I strained my eyes. Was it a light? Yes; not one but several, and all moving rapidly away.

"It's a boat!" I cried. "Let us yell."

And yell we did; once, twice, and then a dozen times, in a tone that made me so hoarse I could hardly speak afterwards.

"It's no use," said Phil. "It's a steamer, and they won't pay any attention."

"I shouldn't wonder but that it was the vessel that struck us?" I exclaimed.

"Most likely. But if they would only pick us up I wouldn't care a straw."

After this there was another interval of silence. Then my arm struck something hard. I put out my hand, and was overjoyed to find that it was the raft.

"Here she is!" I cried. "Here's the Hasty."

"Thank our stars!" returned Phil; "I couldn't have held out much longer."

It did not take us long to get aboard, and com-