said so harshly that the captain sunk back without another word.
The long hours of the night which followed were filled with an anxiety which words cannot describe. The sailors at the oars could do nothing but keep the small boat head up to the waves and at times they became so exhausted, as the sea ran stronger and stronger, that more than one was ready to drop in a faint. I took an oar for two hours and then had to relinquish the blade, for fear it would be torn from my grasp and lost.
It was about five o'clock in the morning when the hurricane abated. As is usual in this locality, the storm let up as quickly as it had gathered. The rain stopped and the wind dropped all in a few minutes, and in less than an hour the sun was shining down upon us from a cloudless sky. The sea, however, still ran dangerously high.
"Do you see anything?" I asked of the second mate, as he balanced himself on one of the middle seats and took a careful look about the horizon.
"Nothing," was his disheartening answer. "Not a sail or a small boat in sight."
"Then the other boats must be lost," and my heart sank again.
"Perhaps not. The wind during the night may have carried us miles apart."
We knew we must be a good distance from land, but we also knew that we were somewhere to the westward of Luzon, so the only thing to do was to, steer a course due east and trust to sight the shore before our provisions gave out.
We had on board but two articles, a keg of ship's biscuits and a keg of water. Several other things had been put into the small craft, but these had either been washed overboard or ruined by the salt water which I had bailed out.
"By close economy we can make the biscuits last three days, and the water about as long," announced the second mate. "We ought to make shore long before that time expires." And he proceeded to deal out a breakfast of two biscuits and one cup of water to each person.
"I want more than two biscuits and I am bound to have them!" cried Captain Kenny and leaped for the biscuit keg. But instantly Watt Brown and two of the sailors confronted him, one with an upraised oar, and again he subsided. After that all of the others watched him carefully.
As I have said, the sea still ran high, and we soon learned that to steer in a due east course was impossible. We had to head to the northeast and at times almost due north.
"This will take us a good many miles to the north of Manila Bay, even if we strike shore," observed Watt Brown to me. "I calkerlate we are already some miles north of Subig Bay."
"Well, I hardly care where we land, if only we escape the sea," I returned. "I have no desire to fill a watery grave, as Betts and the others have done."
"I think we are safe on making shore—providing we don't strike another hurricane, Raymond." Then the second mate leaned close to me. "Watch out for the captain, he has it in for you," he whispered. "He's a bad man when he's got a spell on."
"I'll be on my guard," I replied. I almost wished we had saved somebody else in place of the unreasonable skipper of the Dart.
The morning passed away slowly. By eleven o'clock the sun was almost directly overhead and it was so hot that all craved a shelter that could not be had. The cup of water dealt out at noon seemed pitiably small, but nobody but the captain complained, understanding only too well what the horrors of thirst would be should our supply give out.
Toward night another storm came up, principally of wind. Again the waves increased in height, sending us up to a very mountain top one moment and then letting us down into a gigantic hollow which looked ready to engulf us forever. We still drove northward at a rate of ten to twelve miles an hour.
Having had no sleep for forty-eight hours I was utterly worn out, and when the storm let up a bit, sometime after midnight, I sank in a bunch on my seat and closed my eyes. "It's all right, catch a nap if you can," said the second mate. Soon I was sleeping as soundly as if in my bed at home, although disturbed by the wildest of dreams.
I awoke with a start, to find a firm hand on my shoulder and Captain Kenny glaring into my face. "You're to be number two, lad!" he hissed. "We'll save the water and biscuits for a better mouth!" And then he lifted me up and attempted to hurl me into the sea!
For the fraction of a second my tongue was too paralyzed to utter a sound; then I let out an ear-splitting yell that brought Watt Brown and one of the sailors to my immediate aid. "Let go of me!" I cried. "He wants to heave me overboard!"
"Let him alone!" commanded Brown, and hauled Captain Kenny backward. The sailor hit him a heavy crack on the head, and down went the captain on the boat's bottom unconscious.
"I told ye to be watchful of him," said the second mate, when it was all over. "If Captain Kenny is your enemy onct he's your enemy allers, don't forgit that."
"He said something to me about being number two," I said. "What did he—a man is gone!"
I had glanced around hastily, to discover that one of the oar hands was missing. Watt Brown followed my gaze.
"Garwell!" murmured the second mate. His face grew dark, and in justifiable indignation he leaped to where Captain Kenny lay and shook the unconscious man vigorously. "Where is Garwell!" he cried out. "Tell me, captain, or I'll pitch ye overboard! Where is Garwell?"
CHAPTER V.
CAST ASHORE ON LUZON.
To Watt Brown's vigorous questioning Captain Kenny returned not a word. Either he was still unconscious or he had recovered and come to the conclusion that he had best remain quiet and answer nothing. The mate had caught the captain up, now he flung him down on the hard bottom of the boat as one unworthy of being touched. "I'll settle with him later," he muttered and shut his teeth hard, for the missing man had been one of his best friends.
"Hadn't we better stay around here until daylight and look for Garwell?" asked Sandram, the sailor who had used his fist so effectually upon Captain Kenny's skull.
"Yes," said the second mate. "Poor Garwell! He was a fine fellow."
"None better. Brown," put in Vincent, the second sailor. "Captain Kenny will have a score to settle when this ill-fated cruise comes to an end."
Slowly the remainder of the night dragged by. With the coming of daylight we gazed around eagerly for the body of Garwell and for the other small boats. Nothing came to light but the bluish-green and never-quiet sea, which rose and fell to the edge of the horizon.
"I want water," was Captain Kenny's demand, as he roused up while the scanty breakfast was being dealt out.
"Not a drop until you account for Garwell," returned Watt Brown.
"Account for Garwell? What do you mean?"
You know well enough. You heaved the poor man overboard."
"I did not," roared the captain, but his tell-tale face belied his words. "This is a put-up job against me. Give me the water."
A wordy war followed. Captain Kenny would confess nothing, but that he was guilty there could be no doubt. All that the second mate would allow him was one biscuit and half a cupful of the water, now so warm it was scarcely palatable. The captain continued to grumble, but it availed him nothing, and at last he had to stop, for all of us threatened to send him forth as food for the fishes.
The second day was coming to an end when far to the eastward we heard a curious booming sound, not unlike a cannonading at a distance.
"What is that?" I questioned.
"It's the surf, lad!" cried the second mate, "It's rolling up on a shore or over a hidden reef."
"I hope it's ashore. Any